


Of Broken Mirrors and Smashed Faces

by cuphugaddict



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, College, Coming Out, Disability, Emotional Baggage, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Film Student Francis, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Psychology Student Frederick, Slow Build, Triggers, fredragon, only mentioned - Freeform, repressed sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 11:03:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict
Summary: Thinking back on his poor desicions, Frederick really should have known better. Known better than to take on criminology classes - on top of his workload and his part-time job - only because he had a crush on fellow student Will Graham.Now, he is faced with his crush ignoring him, a horrifying timetable, a terryfying Jack Crawford as their teacher, sassy tutors and assignments that are way beyond him. One of which requires the analysis of a video file that does not offer any coherent sound or picture. Capitulating, he seeks out the film department and meets a generally awesome Reba and her colleage, brooding and intimidating Francis Dolarhyde.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Frederick sighed as soon as the door of the toilet stall slid close behind him. It was too much, it all was just too much. He let himself sink down, back pressed against the flimsy und ugly-yellow colored door of the cubicle and did not care one bit that his bag dropped down next to him unceremoniously onto the tiled floor.

 

Despite popular belief, Frederick Chilton was not an idiot. He knew very well that his stupid crush on one Will Graham was a dead end. He was well aware that the other student did not feel the same for him. Even if the wunderkind in their psychology-classes was not straight as an arrow – if his mooning over their Professor, Dr. Lecter, who returned the very same with the same ferociousness, was anything to go by – he would never be interested in him. That much had been made abundantly clear as Frederick once, under nervous shivers, stomach in knots and sweat pouring out of about every patch of skin, had asked if Will wanted to “grab dinner” after one of their late-afternoon lectures. Frederick had deliberately tried to let it sound as casual as possible, yet Will had still dismissed him with an “I’d really rather not, Frederick.” Not that his pride had been wounded by the dismissal – he was used to that by then – but to hear from Alana the next morning that her and Will had spontaneously decided to try out that new café just a few streets from campus had hurt.

 

He wouldn’t even have minded if Alana had went along with them. Her company would have made the thing less date-like, if Will’s (potential) heterosexuality would have been endangered by Frederick’s offer. Additionally, Frederick had to admit that he liked the dark-haired girl, who was one of the few people on campus who bothered to talk to him from time to time. He suspected that she was one of rather limited amount of human beings who saw the truth behind his carefully constructed persona that he tried to maintain on campus: His desperate need to fit in. Frederick didn’t know what exactly had triggered this life goal of his to gain his peers’ respect and maybe even awe; maybe it was his Cuban background that had been an issue since his days at kindergarten, since he had desperately tried to get rid of his accent, the fact that he had to wear a prosthetic that held his cheek and eye in place – a nice reminder of one of his father’s drunken escapades – or the discovery of his homosexuality during high school days, still living with his highly religious mother. Maybe it was a combination. Maybe he was studying psychology to single out the reason, who knew?

 

What he did know for sure at that moment was that due to his pathetic attempts to make Will Graham like him – even as “only” a friend – he had signed up for criminology classes as well. Apparently, Will wanted to pursue a career as a profiler, which was why he had selected classes of criminal psychology as well. And Frederick, once he had heard that Will casually told Alana about it, had immediately tried to sign up as well. Given the fact that it had been the second week of the semester already, it had taken five e-mails and a rather terrifying appointment with one even more terrifying Mr. Crawford, who held the class Will was so interested in, until he was granted the opportunity to sign up.

 

And now, right that moment in the cubicle with the ugly yellow walls, Frederick had gotten the result for his pathetic attempts to woo Will Graham: assignments. Yes, plural. Not only did he have to get over case files, no, they also had to construct numerous profiles, some from cases already solved, some from cold cases and some totally made up. The leather bag currently lying on the floor next to Frederick held one such case file, and to say it would be extensive reading, would be the understatement of the year. When Frederick should find the time to read through that monstrosity, he didn’t know. To say this had Frederick break out in panic attacks would have been an equal understatement. He didn’t even _need_ the extra credit, for crying out loud, he had already covered those that one semester the system had not let him sign up for his classes which resulted in him taking one singular psychology class that very term. In order not to lose his studentship, without which he could just pack his things straight away, he had signed up for just about any class that he could still get into. At least it had resulted in him not having to study anything more than psychology. But then, of course, one cute guy with floppy hair had to waltz into his life and fuck everything up. Frederick knew it was ridiculous, his crushes had never resulted in anything but heartache for himself, but he couldn’t help himself. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and such.

 

Frederick was so screwed and sadly for him not in the literal sense.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

“Frederick?”

 

The addressed young man looked up. He had been so immersed in the reading of this damnable file for criminology that he hadn’t even heard the person in front of the cashier’s desk approaching. That very person being a truly surprised looking Alana. Frederick gulped, somehow caught off guard for no plausible reason. He worked here, for crying out loud.

 

“Alana … I’ve never seen you around here …” the psychology student said as he clapped the file that lay behind the counter closed. Truly, he didn’t even think that any of his fellow students wandered that far off campus. Studentship aside, he couldn’t afford to reside on campus or even close. So he had moved to a shoebox of a flat in a far less flattering part of Baltimore. As the first few months of his studies had shown, he still couldn’t live on his monthly wages and hence he had looked for a job. Thankfully, a book shop around the corner had looked for help during evening hours and they had hired him straight away. Probably due to him living in close proximity which made him available almost any time during the day. But he honestly didn’t mind. He had always liked books. Additionally, due to him working late hours there usually weren’t that many customers anymore so he could get some reading or even classwork done. The distance to campus made it highly less likely for any of his fellow students to find out where he worked. Until now. Well, at least it was Alana.

 

The dark-haired girl grinned, “No. I’ve actually never been around here. I just … I was going to meet Margot in the bar around the corner but she just told me that she’s going to be late. So I thought, why not look into that book shop with the cool door?” She smiled.

 

Frederick mirrored her action. The door was in fact really cool: midnight blue with a glass window in the middle that was secured by an old iron grating. The awesome thing about the door however was that it was crooked and still somehow managed to open and close without a problem. Frederick didn’t know himself how it worked.

 

Alana took a deep breath, “I have to say I wouldn’t have imagined you in here either, Frederick …”

 

“Always glad to be full of surprises …”, Frederick smirked but at Alana’s frown added, “Even I have to eat, Ms. Bloom.”

 

The slight shock on his fellow student’s face was quickly replaced by a teasing smirk: “Seriously? I always thought you were a hybrid.”

 

Frederick rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small grin that spread on his face. “Are you actually going to buy something or are you simply here to annoy me?”

 

Alana smirked, “Still contemplating …”

 

Frederick nodded, “Alright. If you have decided, do let me know. Otherwise I’ll be here and try to get through that monstrosity of a file.” Just as the student had cast his eyes down onto the paper with the faded letters once again, Alana spoke up again: “Is that for the criminology class?”

 

Frederick exhaled, “Criminal psychology, yes.”

 

“Looks …” Alana cringed, “massive.”

 

“Trust me, it is massive”, Frederick sighed and ran a hand through his hair, finally messing up the highly fragile order he had tried to put in this morning.

 

The girl in the red coat cast her eyes over the counter and frowned, “Do correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you already have all your extra credits?”

 

“You are here to annoy me, alright …” Frederick surrendered and pushed the file away from him.

 

Alana smirked and leaned onto the counter: “I hope you are not going to leap at me from behind your counter for saying this …” she trailed off, bit her lip and tucked her own unruly hair behind her ear, “… but I am not convinced that your … efforts are well placed with Will.”

 

Frederick couldn’t help himself; he had to chuckle: “Trust me, I do know …”

 

Alana looked him straight in the eye. It really was unsettling: “Are you sure?”

 

Frederick nodded, “Yes, I am.” A raised eyebrow was directed towards him. Frederick pulled on his burgundy cardigan. “I really am. I just … I cannot …” he exhaled deeply again, “… help it.” Finally, he had said it out loud. And realized at the same time how pathetic he sounded.

 

Alana, however, seemed satisfied, “Good. We cannot do anything about the way we feel I would just hate it if … you got hurt.” Frederick smiled at the truly genuine sounding confession of his fellow student. “I won’t. I have had enough experience with lost battles that I can recognize one when I see one.”

 

Alana smirked, “Now you’re only fishing for sympathy, Frederick.”

 

Once again, Frederick mirrored her smirk, “Does it work?”

 

Suddenly, Alana’s phone vibrated and she smiled at the screen. Then, she looked up at Frederick again: “For what it’s worth, I do not think that it is you Will isn’t interested in …” While she buttoned up her coat, she continued, “… I don’t think he is sexually interested in anybody. At least not anybody of … us.”

 

Frederick raised an eyebrow, “And who could you possibly mean by that …?”

 

“I believe that to be a rhethorical question?” Alana inquired and Frederick only waved dismissively. His fellow student set out towards the door but turned around when she was about halfway out of the bookshop: “How long is your shift?”

 

“Why?!” the addressed one spat out without really thinking until he composed himself seeing the shocked look on Alana’s face. Yes, his social skills have never been the best. “Sorry. Why?” He tried again.

 

“Uh … As I said, I am meeting my girlfriend in the bar around the corner, maybe you’d like to join us?” the dark-haired woman answered, a bit hesitant.

 

“You have a girlfriend?!” Frederick blurted out and actually face-palmed afterwards. He really wasn’t in his right mind tonight. Still, he briefly had thought about her and Will being a couple. Apparently not.

 

Alana however, seemed amused beyond reason by his continuous exclamation of random things, “Why yes, I do. Surprised much?”

 

“You could say so …” Frederick answered, “Sorry.”

 

Alana smirked, “What’s your favorite drink? I’ll place an order. When do you get off?”

 

“Not at all, that’s the problem”, Frederick deadpanned and Alana laughed out loudly at that one. “Careful Frederick, more of this and people will actually think you have a sense of humor …” Just as Alana was almost out of the door, Frederick exclaimed, “Eleven. And I’ll try the mojito.”

 

 

Once Frederick exited the bookshop, closing up after him, he realized that he hadn’t gotten the name of the bar from Alana. As he rounded the respective corner and walked down the street a few meters, he saw a door with a suspicious looking rainbow flag behind the glass door. He took his chances and entered, briefly wondering why he had never seen that one before. Christ, he knew his neighborhood well, didn’t he?

 

Inside, he could easily spot Alana by the red coat that hung off one barstool, even though the room was rather crowded. Beside her sat a beautiful woman, brown hair and big eyes, about her age, dressed expensively and waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air. Apparently, they were discussing something quite avidly. The other woman spotted him, her eyes resting on him questioningly and as a result Alana turned around, smiling briefly and waving him over. Once he stood beside them – because of course there wasn’t another stool left – his colleague placed the promised mojito next to him. “A mojito, as requested. Frederick, this is Margot, my infamous girlfriend. Margot, my fellow student Frederick.” Frederick took Margot’s offered hand, “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

Margot grinned at him, “The same. In fact, we were just talking about you and the crush you have on Will …” Alana rolled her eyes in exasperation and Frederick coughed, “Hand me my mojito please. I am way too sober for this conversation as it is ..." Alana did as requested and Margot chuckled. Frederick took a sip and cringed.

 

“What? Not good?” Alana wanted to know.

 

Frederick shook his head, “Too sweet. Jesus Christ”, he shuddered and waved the bartender over. “Can I get more ice in here?” As the guy behind the bar winked at him and refilled his glass with a “Sure thing, sweetheart” Frederick only nodded at him. “Is he your type?” Margot wanted to know once the bartender ventured to some other client, Frederick shook his head, “If he makes mojitos like that, he most definitely isn’t.”

 

“And here I was, thinking that you’d like something sweet …” Alana teased, grinning over at the bartender. Frederick slapped her shoulder, “Stop it. I’m from Cuba, I’m a mojito snob. I have yet to find one that comes up to my standards.”

 

“You’re from Cuba?!” Alana exclaimed and not it was Frederick’s turn to face her with a glare similar to the one she had given him about an hour ago in the bookshop.

 

“Say Frederick”, Margot interjected, “do tell us: How do you make a good mojito then?”

 

Alana however did not let go, “Is your name Frederick or Federico?”

 

The student shot her a death glare: “I’ll answer the first question …”

 

Alana smirked into her glass knowingly.

 

 

All things considered, Frederick thought the evening to be a success. Yes, he had briefly suffered from a sugar induced shock by taking that first sip of his mojito but he had, surprisingly, spent a very nice evening with Alana and Margot, who apparently was a professional horseback rider as well as model and an heiress. And she had a weird brother, at least that’s what the two girls told him. As he went to bed past one in the morning, noticing that it had been way too long since he had stayed out that long, he did so with a small grin of his face – even though he’d deny it if ever asked.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

Frederick hurried into the seminar room, dropping down ungraciously onto one of the empty stools, just as Dr. Lecter got his notes out of his briefcase, Will predictably already bouncing with excitement at the upcoming revelations from their Lithuanian teacher. It almost made Frederick sick but he blamed it onto the sip of the too sweet mojito the previous night.

 

“Ah, Mr. Chilton. I am happy that you are finally gracing us with your presence. And just in time as well …”

 

Frederick offered a tight-lipped grin and struggled to wrestle his notebook out of his leather bag. Alana, sitting next to Will, turned around and winked at him in a friendly way. He was sure though that she wouldn’t let this Federico-thing go entirely. Just because he had escaped the answer to that question last night, did not mean that she would leave it at that. In fact, Frederick was almost certain that she wouldn’t.

 

As Hannibal blabbered on about the merits of psychic driving which, to him, was acceptable in certain situations – Will making heart-shaped eyes while he did so – Frederick thought about his previous night-out with Alana and her girlfriend and he realized that his old ways of mistrusting people announced itself to be back: Would it be a possibility that she was only gathering information about him? That she was only playing nice to find stuff out about him so she and Will could gossip about him, his Cuban background as well as his homo- or at least bisexuality, as far as Alana knew? His crush on Will? Frederick literally shuddered at the thought and as Dr. Lecter wanted to know from him what substances helped in the process – doubtlessly because he thought his being late rude – he somewhat proudly stated “sodium amatol” and swore to himself that he would be more careful in the future.

 

 

The next day did not hold another clinical psychiatry class but a criminal psychology one – hence, one more day for Frederick to see Will Graham. He briefly considered to have masochistic tendencies. More so, as Jack Crawford picked the entirety of the profile he had mustered up from the case file apart and classified everything as being too shallow. Frederick wanted to die in shame, his cheeks being bright red – although their teacher underlined that the other students could “learn from his mistakes”. And didn’t Frederick just love to be an object for learning?

At the end of the class, Frederick only marginally registered the assignment they were given until the next class in two weeks’ time: the profiling of a person of whom they would receive a video per mail. The humiliation on front of a class of would-be FBI agents prevailed.

 

The whole thing however lead to Will jogging up to him after the lecture. Frederick almost got a heart attack as the other student called out to him, “Frederick! Wait …” as he left the classroom.

 

“Will?” he asked perplexed and couldn’t help but find the rumpled plaid shirt of the other young man endearing. Needless to say, he never found plaid shirts, even freshly ironed, cute on anybody else. God, he was so gone.

 

The curly-haired man offered him one of his awkward grins, “I … uh … I just …” he bit his lip, “I just wanted to say that … uhm, your observations were not entirely wrong Frederick … just … not even Jack Crawford sees everything.”

 

The addressed student hated himself for it, but he stopped dead in his tracks, “Did you just …” He bit his lip as well. “Was that a compliment?”

 

Will offered him his awkward grin again, “I just thought that Crawford was a bit … harsh. With you. I … I wouldn’t consider your observations wrong but maybe … you need to elaborate on them. They could be a lead …”

 

Frederick frowned, “Wait, you mean that this was an actual case?” he asked as they made their way out of the university building.

 

Will chuckled as if it was more than obvious, “Yes, it is.”

 

“How do you know?” Frederick replied. He had asked himself numerous times if the insights they provided could actually contribute to catching a killer. It made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up at the thought as he worried over the damn file during his shift at the book shop.

 

“It’s quite obvious …” Will started and continued as Frederick didn’t respond, “He uh … he …” Will motioned with his hands in front of them, “… he paces. He paces a lot more than with the made up ones.”

 

Frederick was stunned. He needed to look into that theory of Will, “That’s his cue?”

 

Will only nodded and Frederick took everything in with a quiet “Huh.”

 

As they walked awkwardly next to each other, a thought came across his mind: “Did Alana ask you to talk to me?”

 

For somebody who had a remarkable talent for reading and decoding the actions of other people, Will was almost comically unable to hide his own. At Frederick’s comment, he blushed deep red: “Maybe.”

 

Frederick chuckled humorlessly, “You don’t have to. Seriously.”

 

“I … Frederick …” Will turned over and stopped him in his tracks just as they left the old oaken entrance gate behind them. “I really didn’t mean to upset you with my rejection of your dinner invitation I just … didn’t want to.”

 

Frederick was almost touched by the apology. He quickly posed himself again, “Don’t worry over it. No harm done.”

 

Will however, seemed to struggle even harder to explain his introverted self to Frederick, “I … I have difficulties with … emotions altogether and … I wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted from me. So I said no. I … I didn’t want to hurt you and I’m sorry.” As he finished, the student looked like he had just run a marathon.

 

Frederick’s lips quirked up, “Thank you for … explaining that to me. And you don’t have anything to apologize for. Maybe we could well, not be friends exactly, but … talk and exchange opinions. As we both have quite a few classes together.” As soon as this rambling sentence had fought his way out of Frederick’s mouth, he knew he made a huge mistake. Being Will Graham’s friend? Was he insane? If not that then truly masochistic.

 

Will grinned awkwardly again before he nodded and left Frederick standing right there in the shadow of the huge fountain in front of the building – more confused than ever in his life.

 

 

About a day later, the video arrived through the mailing system of the university. Frederick decidedly ignored it for another day – the memory of Jack Crawford still too vivid in his memory – before sat down in front of his laptop in his shoebox-flat and opened it. It took ages to load and Frederick cursed his internet connection yet again, before he could hit the play-button. After a short period of buffering the file started – and after a moment of consideration and a very prominent frown, Frederick threw his hand down at his office desk: “Oh come on! Seriously?!”  
What he saw was a composure of black and white specks, ghosting over his screen in chaos, rendering an analysis impossible. There wasn’t even coherent sound, for crying out loud. Even the loading of the whole file for a second and a third time didn’t help – so Frederick Chilton yet again capitulated and sent an e-mail to Crawford’s tutor, stating the problem before he shut the laptop down for the day and went to bed with a sigh. At least he had the next morning free of classes and work so he could start working on a long-overdue paper for one of his class in clinical psychiatry.

 

 

As Frederick opened his laptop the next morning, still clad in boxer briefs and an undershirt, prosthetic not yet in place and balancing a freshly brewed cup of coffee on his knee, his plans for working on his paper got destroyed in an instant. Just seconds after checking his e-mail account, he screamed an “Oh fucking GREAT!” towards his unresponding screen. Right there sat a message from Brian Zeller, Crawford’s tutor, who told him not to be a pussy and get the video straightened out himself. Because _How do you think the FBI get anything sorted out if they didn’t take initiative themselves, genius?!_ Frederick read that last line three times until he had assured himself that it actually stood there. Was that guy serious? As if it was his fault the material they sent was crappy?

 

He paced around in his room – maybe not unlike Crawford himself – screaming obscenities towards his walls. _Fuck Crawford and fuck Will Graham for getting him to join this stupid class! Fuck Crawford’s God complex! Fuck Will’s floppy hair and cute pout! He would resign from that stupid class that he did not need anyway! That was exactly what he would do! It wouldn’t even go into his certificate and bash his average. He simply would not put it up for calculation. So what if Crawford and Will thought he was an incompetent fool? He’d have a life again! He would not have to put up with that criminal psychology crap anymore and would be happy! Happy as one could be with Hannibal Lecter teaching your major classes, but still – it would be a damn improvement!_ Frederick Chilton squared his shoulders and huffed: _That was exactly what he would do!_

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

It wasn’t that Frederick Chilton was particularly proud of himself or that he wasn’t cursing himself inwardly on a permanent basis for his inconsistency and weakness, but about an hour and a half later, he found himself in front of the university’s film studies department. Way off his usual route on campus, he had a rather easy time finding the respective building. It admittedly was a rather nice change. To find the department for audiovisual production and restoration was a bit harder and to find the lab where everything took place had Frederick walking a corridor four times until he found stairs leading down into the basement of the building where he knocked on the door that read “teaching assistants” right next to a handwritten note: “Please knock! [And don’t you dare open the door until you’re told so!].

 

“Hold on a minute; don’t open the door …” came a female voice from the inside and Frederick frowned, blinking at the handwritten note, but had no choice than to wait patiently. After about a minute, the same voice told him to come in. Opening the door, he was greeted by total darkness. “Uh …” he muttered unintelligibly and was rewarded with a chuckle. “Right, sorry. Light switch is on the wall to your right.”

 

Frederick let his hands wander over said wall and after about ten seconds he found the switch and flicked it on. The lights that flickered to life above him and revealed what he could only call creative chaos. At least on one of the two tables there. Said table offered a multitude of wires and machines Frederick had not seen once in his life lying next to leaflets and a few empty coffee mugs. He wrinkled his nose.

 

“How can I help you?” The female voice that had called him in brought him back into focus and his eyes wandered over to a young black woman in a white dress sitting at the other, more organized desk.

 

Frederick cleared his throat, “Yes, right. I … I have a question.” He ran his hand through his hair, absolutely uncomfortable with asking for help. It always made him feel weak and incapable.

The girl’s eyes fixed on him so he continued, “I got a video from one of my teachers. I should construct a profile from the interview but … well, it’s just white noise. I can’t see a damn thing. Or hear, for that matter. And I was told I should take care of it myself, so …”

 

The girl smiled, “So you’re here. Alright … I’ll see what I can do. Do you have the file with you?”

 

Frederick cringed, “I can load the e-mail …”

 

The girl smiled, “Laptop is just to your right. Tell me when the file has loaded …” Then she turned back to her work on the desk, putting a small black box into a bigger box and attempted to store it carefully onto a shelf behind her. Frederick shrugged and started logging into his account, drawing up the file in somewhat awkward silence. Once it had loaded he told the girl that he had hit play. She didn’t get up from her office chair, but pulled herself alongside the messy table towards him. Frederick hoped that his frown did not show but he really stared to question the level of sanity in this lab.

 

The disgusting sound of the video made his attention snap back to the task at hand, namely getting his file straightened out. “Ungh! Jesus …” the girl shuddered visibly. Just as Frederick started with “I told you it was bad …” the door opened and another student came in. Frederick had to do a double take: In came guy like a tower, with a stern face, broad shoulders and a haircut as exact as it could be. He carried an armful of VHS tapes, braced against his torso covered by an olive long-sleeved shirt. “God, how terrible!” came his booming voice that, Frederick had to admit, did fit that mountain of a man just fine. “What’s …” only then the other student became aware of Frederick sitting there and he straightened his shoulders a bit, “… that?”

 

“Hi”, Frederick offered but the other young man only grumbled. Slightly disturbed, the psychology student was saved by the girl: “Tell me that it doesn’t look as bad as it sounds Dee …”

 

The addressed one, Dee apparently, only huffed, “Worse.”

 

“Ungh!” the girl replied and only then Frederick realized what she had said and practically froze in place, “You’re blind?” He cringed visibly afterwards and was glad that the girl couldn’t actually see it. Her colleague however, looked with a murderous stare at him that did both of them justice. “Sorry …” he whispered as an afterthought but the girl only chuckled lightly. “It’s quite alright. I’m happy it doesn’t show. And don’t you think that I’m not aware of your glowering over there Dee. You’ll scare away our visitor …”

 

“Hm …” was the only reply the both of them got from the tall student before he sat down at a laptop that was connected to some sort of machine which was able to convert VHS tapes to digital files – not that Frederick knew that but he simply took a wild guess. “I’m Reba”, the girl offered her hand in greeting and Frederick took it, a bit hesitant. “Frederick.” Reba smiled at him and pointed over her shoulder, “And that sunshine over there is Dee. He’s very talkative, as I’m sure you have gathered by now …” Another accusing glance was shot their way but Reba only chuckled, “Stop glaring! … Okay, so Frederick: I am going to work on the soundtrack of the video and Dee will do his magic on the visual. We’ll see what we can do, alright? No promises though.”

 

Frederick nodded and almost slapped his forehead for real, “Yes, thank you. I … uhm … how long do you think it’ll take? Not to pressure you or anything but … well, I have a deadline.”

 

Reba smiled, “Don’t we all? What’s your name … you know, so we can send you an e-mail …”

 

“Frederick Chilton. The usual university mail address.”

 

“Alright … So, I guess we surely need until tomorrow or the day after, but we’ll write. Is that okay?” Reba asked and Frederick assured her that is was quite fine. After bidding both of them a hasty goodbye and a thank you for their good will, Frederick hurried out of the room, asking himself what the hell that had been on his way out.

 

True to their word, Frederick received an e-mail the day after his visit to the audiovisual lab from Reba, telling him that the clip was a “bastard” but they had located the problem – something elaborate about exporting the file and conflicting formats which Frederick couldn’t even pretend to understand – and that they would be able to restore the thing properly. They didn’t want to send the thing to him per mail though because the file would get too big, so he should drop by sometime the next day to pick it up. Checking his classes and his shift at the book shop against the opening hours of the lab, he realized that he had to hurry from Dr. Lecter’s class to the lab and then to the book shop. He would just keep his fingers crossed that it all worked out.

 

Entering the seminar room to the psychology class, he spotted Alana who waved him over to where she and Will were already sitting. Frederick hesitated briefly, his conversation with Will resurfacing from wherever it had been buried beneath the video-file disaster. Still, he squared his shoulders and went over to them sitting down with a quiet “Hello”. Alana aimed at small talk, asking him when his next shift at the book shop was because she wanted to show Margot the door. Frederick rolled his eyes and wasn’t even granted the opportunity to answer, as Will asked immediately, “You work in a book shop?”

 

Frederick frowned, not knowing if his interest was genuine or if he was faking it. Still, Frederick responded with a “Yeah, close to my flat, actually. Mostly evenings, because, you know …”

 

Alana slapped Will on the shoulder, “Could you imagine how surprised I was to find him there, behind the counter, buried in one of your criminal psychology-class files? I thought I was hallucinating …”

 

Will nodded, eyes firmly on the notebook in front of him, “I can imagine …”

 

Alana chuckled, “Of course you can”, which had Frederick huff out a laugh. After a moment of consideration, Will’s lips curved into a smile and he nodded. “Did you have the time to get started on your profile yet, Frederick?” he asked as an afterthought.

 

Frederick only sighed, “I bet you’re all done, am I right?” Will looked sheepishly at him and the other student shook his head, “No, I haven’t. The file was … well, destroyed, I couldn’t see a damn thing. Nor hear anything. So I went to the film department to get it straightened out. I am going to pick it up just after this class …”

 

Will nodded, “I’m … I’m sorry you had to … do that.”

 

Frederick shrugged, “After Zeller told me very _nicely_ that I should get my shit together and look for a solution for their problems myself …”

 

The curly-haired man nodded and grinned, “Yeah, that’s Brian alright.” At Frederick’s questioning raise of eyebrows, he told him that he had applied for an internship at the FBI during the summer and Brian Zeller had done the same. Not as a psychologist though but as a pathologist. Frederick frowned inwardly at Will’s comment. _Of course_ he had been already accepted by Crawford whereas he himself was still waiting for a response from the numerous hospitals he had applied to. Thankfully, Dr. Lecter entered the classroom and put an end to his musings by replacing them with annoyance towards their teacher.

 

Frederick hurried out of the seminar room as soon as Lecter said something about picking up that particular thought next week, doubtlessly trailing a dubious gaze of the psychiatrist behind him and ran over campus to get to the audiovisual lab. Scurrying down the stairs he almost ripped the door open but, thinking better on it, stopped dead in his tracks and knocked. “Yeah!” came a booming voice from inside – so no Reba but Dee then. Just great, Frederick thought. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of the tall man towering over one of the laptops in the lab. “Hi …” Frederick said and was greeted with a booming “Hello.”

 

Frederick broke into an uneasy smile, “Uh … I’m here because of the file you repaired for me? … Thank you so much, by the way, you are saving my life …” The student hated when he started rambling.

 

Maybe Dee hated his rambling as well, as he only lifted an eyebrow, “Your life?”

 

Frederick rolled his eyes, “If you knew Jack Crawford you wouldn’t be making fun of that …” He wasn’t sure but he might have detected a short movement of lips from the tutor. It was only then that Frederick realized the huge scar that went from the young man’s lip up to his nose. Cleft palate, then. How he hadn’t noticed it the first time, he didn’t know, although he might still have been too intimidated by the guy.

 

“Do you have an … an USB s-stick?” The deep and rich voice asked and shook him from his musings. As Frederick looked dumbfounded at the other student he clarified: “For the file.”

 

The psychology major bit his lip, “Ah … no?”

 

To be honest, the eye-roll could have been predicted, as could the deep grumble. Frederick shuddered at the sound. Without another word, Dee started rummaging through the chaos on the adjoining table and – miraculously – freed an USB stick that he plugged into the computer. While the file loaded, Dee first made sure that Frederick brought the stick back, to which the student agreed enthusiastically and was then silent. Frederick, who was beginning to feel more than uneasy, eyed the window on the laptop that read “5:23 minutes to go” with a very specific dread. He made a comment about the weather as well as thanked him for his and Reba’s troubles. Nothing. Not even a grumble.

 

By the time the timer read just under three minutes, Frederick had literally started to sweat under the intense presence of the tutor. Thankfully, the door burst open and Reba came in – noticing immediately that somebody else was there. “Frederick?” she asked while the addressed one sent a prayer towards heaven and greeted her back. He successfully fought the urge to hug her for easing the tension. He took the time to thank her profusely again at which she demanded compensation: “So, you tell me: What can you pay us?”

 

Frederick was a bit taken aback at first, but soon realized the twitching of the girl’s lips. “I don’t know. What would you need? ‘Cause I’m telling you, money … not so great right now.”

 

Reba winked at him and bit her lip, “Hmmm, let’s see. We’re simple people you know … pie and booze would suffice.”

 

Frederick raised his eyebrows, “O-kay … uhm … yeah. You talking about booze leads me to assume that you’d like your payment in the evening …”

 

Reba smiled and touched his arm in a friendly way, probably just to see where he stood, “Maybe when you return our stick …”

 

And how on earth did she know that? Frederick was continuously intimidated by those two people. Right then the file had finished loading, Frederick pulled the USB stick from the laptop, assured them that he would think of something to repay them and was out of the door, crossing his fingers that the bus was on time so that he’s arrive as expected at the shop.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The payment Reba jokingly asked Frederick for only came to his mind again once he had handed in the profile he drew up for the guy in the video – the beautifully restored video, mind him. He wasn’t sure how Reba and Dee had managed to do what they had but the outcome was phenomenal: Not only did he hear the man speak loud and clear about the crimes he had committed, he could see every single one of his hair as well. Nothing about the file even gave a hint towards the mess he had been “gifted” with in the beginning. He was even granted the opportunity to tell them as much: One day, when he was grabbing coffee with Alana on their way to Lecter’s he saw the two of them sitting in the small café on campus. As he approached their table and told them about the video, Reba smiled at both of them, Dee seemed surprised and shrunk into himself while taking another sip of his coffee. It was an awkward act to witness, a guy his size trying to curl into himself. Reba however seemed happy to “see” him and about the introduction to Alana, who, on their way out, immediately wanted to know who they were. “Are you suggesting that I’m not decent enough to meet new people?” he asked in mock-offense and Alana only shrugged, “Honestly? No.” Both psychology students burst into a fit of laughter which had Frederick almost spill his take away coffee.

Despite this brief encounter with the two film students, Frederick’s weeks had been much too stressful to do anything outside his usual routine.

 

So once the paper was submitted, a slight smile from Will from the left of him once Crawford took his print out, he thought about what he could make for the two tutors. Not being good with baking itself – as Reba had suggested pie – he decided to make something his abuelita had taught him when he was still a little boy: A Cuban desert, made of semolina with hints of vanilla and mint. He suspected that white wine would go best with it – so he bought two bottles that weren’t too cheap but he nevertheless could afford. Once the stuff was packed into a cooling container that he miraculously possessed, he made his way over to the film studies department one Friday evening, hoping, that both tutors would still be there.

 

Thankfully, they were … as Frederick could hear by the loud arguing that could be heard even in the corridor. Apparently, they were fighting about a video file. “But Dee, this is terrible …” Reba said, at which the other student only snorted, “And how can you tell? You cannot even see it!” Frederick frowned. On the one hand because that seemed like a rather rude comment that both students admittedly were most likely above as they knew each other exceptionally well. On the other hand, he had never heard Dee talk this much and with such conviction, not caring one bit if the “s”-sounds of his speech were slurred. Somehow, funnily enough, this led to them being much clearer articulated then when he guarded his speech. “I do not have to see it; I can feel that it’s horrible.” Dee huffed, “Great. Then why don’t you do something about it and let me go home. It’s not even my material … Maybe, if our wise instructor would let us film it, it wouldn’t be so terrible!” Reba actually had the balls to chuckle at her booming and doubtlessly terrifyingly looking colleague, “Sure, I’m just going to take close-ups next time, okay?” Dee sighed audibly, “You! … I don’t even know why I’m friends with you …” Despite the rather rude comment, affection for Reba was clearly dominant in Dee’s tone. Reba answered with pure happiness in her voice, “Because we sucked at having a relationship, that’s why …”

 

Frederick, suddenly overly aware that he was eavesdropping, knocked on the door which was promptly greeted with both of the film students chanting “YES!” in unison. The visitor opened the door and held the cooler at an awkward distance to his left. “Bad timing?”

 

“Frederick!” Reba exclaimed while Dee composed himself and shrinking a little into himself again while doing so. “Actually, it’s perfect timing. Are you bringing back our stick?”

 

“Yes, actually. And I come baring gifts …” Frederick added as he once had to remind himself that Reba could not actually see the container. It was very hard to remember she was blind, given her usual bold presence in the room. The girl’s face lit up in a grin: “Uh, even more perfect timing then. What have you brought us?” While Frederick placed the container on the less messed-up table and noticed Dee looking at him and then quickly onto the monitor in front of him again. Frederick kept unpacking his things, “As I am no use at baking, more so with an oven in my … moderate apartment that I do not trust, I made no pie but something else …” he trailed off as he pulled the foil off the glasses he had filled his mousse in and put a spoon in each. “It’s Cuban, a quite common desert …” he said and gave one glass to Reba, one to Dee, who took it without looking at Frederick and kept one for himself. “And, I’ve brought wine. But no glasses. So if you have some, that would be great.”

 

“Dee?” Reba asked expectantly and Dee, grumbling silently, moved out the door – supposedly into their break room.

 

“Is he always like that?” Frederick asked before he could think better of it. Maybe this statement had been triggered by the lively conversation he had witnessed before he had entered the lab.

 

Reba chuckled, “No, not always. Just when he meets somebody new. More so, if it is somebody he likes …”

 

Frederick almost dropped his glass. That was Dee _liking_ somebody? “He likes me? … Hm, not used to that, I have to say …”

 

Reba laughed loudly at that, composing herself just a moment afterwards. “Yeah, you two have more in common than either of you thinks …”

Frederick frowned at that, however, a possible follow-up question was trampled into the ground by Dee arriving with three glasses. Mismatched, but at least they were clean. Frederick offered Dee the bottle and the other student poured each of them half a glass before placing the bottle into the cooler again. “Well …” Reba started as neither of them said anything, “I’d say we try Frederick’s kitchen attempts, what do you say, Dee?”

 

Frederick’s head snapped onto his right, were Dee was seated. “Hmmm …yes” was all he got. Nerves getting to him just a bit, he took a deep breath, “Well, I hope I’ll pass the test …”

 

“We’ll see about that”, Reba joked and took her first spoon, while Dee only stared at the dish. It somehow made Frederick’s skin crawl. His head however snapped back to Reba on his left when the girl moaned out obscenely. The psychology student registered Dee’s almost enraged and slightly embarrassed reaction to that sound only marginally. He might have just looked the same, if he was honest with himself.

 

“Oh my GOD! Frederick, this is amazing! Forget the pie. Never bring pie, always this!” He chuckled somewhat nervously and took a spoon himself. “Where did you learn how to make this?” she asked and Frederick replied, once he had swallowed the bit of his mousse, “My grandmother. She taught me when I was little … It’s a popular dish in Cuba but … well, she had sort of a family receipe.”

 

“Are you Cuban?” Reba frowned, “Sorry, but I cannot detect any accent there …”

 

Frederick was quite aware of Dee’s eyes resting on him, spoon still in his left and untouched mousse in his right hand. “Yes, I am. Well, I grew up in America but … My mother and hence her mother are Cuban. My father …” he gulped, “Let’s just say he’s not in the picture. Even though we spoke mostly Spanish at home, my abuelita …” he took a moment to compose himself, aware that his guard slipped at the use of a Spanish word, “… she was always very keen on me learning English perfectly. As she did have a hard time adjusting.”

 

Reba smiled at him, “Well, she certainly succeeded. Just like in teaching you this dessert. Dee?”

 

Finally, the other student seemed to snap out of his heaven-knew-by-what-exactly-induced trance, took a spoon full of the dish Frederick had prepared and hummed. After swallowing, he licked his lips. “Good. Very good.” The psychology student would have thought that at some point, one would get used to another person’s voice. Not with Dee, apparently, as the sheer sound of it, albeit almost whispered, still sent shivers down his spine. And not entirely pleasant ones … _Wait, not_ entirely _… Where the hell did that thought suddenly come from?_

 

“Th-ank you, it was … friendly of you to bring it.”

 

Frederick grinned at the tall young man next to him and was amazed at how skilled he was in avoiding s-sounds, for example by saying ‘friendly’ instead of ‘nice’.

“Not at all. I’m glad you like it! It really was the least I could do …”

 

After a few sips of wine, more mousse and some small talk – mostly between Reba and him, mind – the topic he himself had been dreading came up: The Winter Dance. Frederick had wrongly hoped that this particular spectacles of public ridicule, at least for him, had stopped once he had left high school. No such luck. Although it wasn’t as judgmental as in all of their younger years, it still was a sort of way of showing you had mastered university life if you showed up – with a partner. That Frederick didn’t have. He had decided simply not to go. The problem was, he liked these kind of things. Drinking, dancing, mingling. But without somebody at his side he probably would be doing none of these things, so he had buried the thought as soon as it had come up.

 

Now, however, a new possibility presented itself as Reba was asking him casually if he was attending. Frederick shrugged, faux-deliberately and sighed, “I don’t think so. I mean, I’d like to, but without anybody who I could actually dance with or talk to, I’d probably feel stupid and left out. So I’d rather not …”

 

Slightly shocked at how open he was with the two film students, Frederick didn’t immediately realize the predatory grin on Reba’s face. Dee sighed next to him, almost as if in defeat. Frederick was under the impression the he heard a quiet “Here we go …” but he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Would you like to go with me then?” the girl asked with a grin.

 

 “Excuse me?” Frederick asked, taken aback.

 

The dark-skinned girl waved her hand in the air nonchalantly, “You know, if you’re not uncomfortable with the whole ‘Taking-the-blind-girl-out’-thing. I’d like to go too, but Dee here”, a very accusatory glance was cast the other film student’s way, “… decided to bail on me. Heaven knows why. I think he’d look quite handsome in the suit I know he has.” An equally mocking glare was thrown back at Reba at that comment. Still, Reba continued, “So I have buried that idea. But now, things could look promising again …” she smiled and touched Frederick’s arm, who didn’t know where to cast his eyes. A moment later he realized how ridiculous that was – as was his blush – and cleared his throat. “Uhm … yeah. Yeah, that’d be great …”

 

Dee frowned at him and Frederick realized how unenthusiastic he had sounded. Reba, amazingly, still kept her smile, “Don’t worry, it was just an idea. If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I was just thinking out loud …”

 

Frederick blushed even darker, “It’s not … I’d like to go. Honestly. It’s just … This wouldn’t be a date, right?” He cringed at his phrasing and was glad that Reba couldn’t see him. Dee however glared at him and the psychology student didn’t know if the other man would jump him any second for the mere suggestion that this could technically be considered a date or that he refused the very same.

 

Reba however only laughed, “No, it wouldn’t be. That’s fine, we’ll go as friends. I’d only like to go there and dance, have a good night. God knows I can use one of those …”

 

Frederick chuckled, relieved, “Okay. Right. In that case, I’d be happy to go with you.”

 

“It’s the blind-thing, isn’t it? It terrifies everyone …” Reba asked before she leaned in on him and took a sip of her wine.

 

“Uh … no, actually”, Frederick said, face turning into an even darker shade of red, “I just had one … incident, let’s call it incident, where I went to see this film with a girl from high school. I really only wanted to see the film and nothing further but she thought it was a date and well … It had been a disaster.”

 

“Why?” Frederick looked flabbergasted to his left at Dee’s question. That had probably been the first word he had contributed to their conversation in the last twenty minutes. “Was she not your type?” Reba asked.

 

Frederick laughed quietly again. “No, she really, really wasn’t.”

 

“Let me guess: Wrong hair color?” the girl asked jokingly and Frederick mentally braced himself for whatever reaction would come from the two of them once he had answered: “Wrong sex.”

 

Reba laughed out loudly and even Dee huffed a bit to his left. Maybe that counted as chuckling, who knew? “Yeah, that’ll take more effort to change than the hair color”, Reba sputtered and all of a sudden, Frederick found himself laughing with the two of them.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

As soon as Frederick passed from the freezing cold night air that already carried a hint of snow in it into the main building of the university, he spotted his not-date. Reba stood next to a pillar, hair arranged in beautiful locks that were pulled up somehow, wearing a crème-colored dress that stood in sharp contrast to her dark skin and making her look like a goddess. Frederick couldn’t help but gape a little bit. He quickly braced himself again and walked over to the young woman, announcing himself as he walked closer: “Reba! Hello. You look absolutely stunning”, he said and extended his arm that she miraculously caught mid-way. “Frederick, hi.” She smiled and pulled him into a hug, leaving just the hint of a kiss on his cheek. “Let me see if I can return the compliment … Don’t be shocked” she warned before she let her hands travel over the front of his jacket, his tie and shirt. Staying a little longer at his revers, her fingers tracing the outline of his suit-jacket’s collar, she smiled, “Yes, that is acceptable.” Frederick chuckled and offered his arm in order to venture with Reba into the ballroom – after he had left his coat at the cloak room. Truth to be told, he was a little relieved that she didn’t comment on his suit, respectively the fact the he was wearing a suit and not a tuxedo that he simply couldn’t afford.

 

As Frederick had flashed their tickets as they entered the banquet hall that had been re-decorated as a ballroom, he leaned towards the young woman, “Just so you know: I am pretty sure that my shirt matches your dress …”

 

Reba looked at him, smiling, “Which of course we did on purpose.”

 

“Of course we did”, Frederick chuckled and felt Reba shifting a bit closer to him, probably so she could make out their path from his movements. He turned his head to her, “You know, if I need to do or tell you certain things, you’ll have to let me know.”

 

Reba smiled brightly at him, “I will. So far, I have no complaints.” Frederick smiled. “We’ll see if you are allowed to lead during dancing though …”

 

Frederick laughed out loudly at that and apparently, it caught the attention of one Alana Bloom in a beautiful midnight blue dress. Standing next to her, and Frederick didn’t know if he should be utterly shocked or pleasantly surprised by the fact, was one absolutely uncomfortable looking Will Graham. Alana’s face morphed into a grin and she called out to them. Frederick sighed. He didn’t really know if he wanted to talk to them right now. Still, he was left with no other choice than walk over to them. Reba frowned: “Is that the girl who was with you that time in the café?”

 

Frederick smiled, impressed by Reba’s memory: “Yes, she is. And the guy with her is Will Graham. He’s in two of my psychology classes as well …”

 

Reba smiled at him, clearly thankful for the additional information – which she promptly used once Frederick had awkwardly introduced them to his not-date. The psychology student marveled at how easily she made small-talk with the other two friends – acquaintances – of him and how much he himself always struggled when faced with the task. To be honest, it was mostly the young women talking, as Will looked about as uncomfortable as he himself felt. Maybe more so.

 

“So, uhm … Reba”, Will started all of a sudden and three pairs of eyes wandered over to him, “How did you and Frederick meet?”

 

Frederick thanked the heavens that Reba could not see Alana’s _‘Are-you-fucking-kidding-me?!’_ look. On second thoughts, the Cuban was sure that she could feel it … which was probably worse.

 

Thankfully, Reba recovered very quickly and retold the tale of the horrible video file, that Will only graced with an “Ah”, followed by a “He told me about that” the second Frederick had opened his mouth to ease the tension, or at least attempt to. Reba, to his right, smiled.

 

“How is it you’re here tonight Will?” Frederick asked after a brief silence where the psychology student asked himself why, while three of “them” were present, the situation was as awkward as could be – and he didn’t even know why. And what did that say about his abilities as an analyst? But the fact that Will, who consciously avoided social interaction was here sparked his curiosity, to say the least.

 

Will sighed, “Alana made me …” which was followed by a slap to his shoulder by Alana. “It’s not like I put a gun to your head …” The raven-haired girl countered indignantly. Looking over at Frederick and Reba again, she said “Margot couldn’t make it, she had a tournament today … in California.”

 

Frederick raised his eyebrows. Apparently, she was rather famous. “Wow, which kind of tournament?” Reba asked and while Alana started on the whole horseback-riding-modelling-heiress-thing again, Will excused himself and went over to the bar, Alana shouting over that as her date, he was obliged to get her a glass of champagne.

 

Reba chuckled and nudged Frederick, “I’ll get back to that newly gathered knowledge later …” at which the student chuckled. Alana grinned too. “Seriously Alana, how did you get him out of his … whatever accommodation Will Graham has?”

 

The girl standing opposite of them, smirked. “I had a bait. And … oh, here we go.” Alana looked over at the bar and as Frederick did the same, he could not suppress a sigh: There, at the bar, where Will undoubtedly had arrived two seconds ago – tops – stood one Hannibal Lecter, one hand on Will’s shoulder. Of course he would be here …

 

“Okay, I hate to depend on others, but could someone explain that … whatever it is to me … Frederick?” Reba’s voice brought the Cuban out of his trance. “Okay, so we have this psychology professor, Hannibal Lecter, and … how do I say this without sounding too rude and presumptuous Alana?”

 

“You can’t. Basically, Will has a huge boner for Lecter and … one dare say, vice versa. Although no one has acted upon that. Yet”, the raven-haired student elaborated. Reba tsked and  turned towards Frederick, “And that’s problematic for you because on the one hand Will excels in that psychology class in a way you would like to and on the other hand because you like Will?”

 

Alana huffed a laugh and Frederick shook his head, “I don’t know how she does that, seriously.” The young man squeezed Reba’s arm fondly to let her know that he was not insulted by her observation, and added towards Alana, “I think she should study psychology, not me.” Towards Reba, he said, “Yes, I liked Will and … it would be a lie if I said I’m completely over him, but: I’m getting there.”

 

Reba nodded, smiling up at him, “So, we’re here to dance I believe?” Frederick smiled, thankful for the diversion and nodded, “Seems like you will have to look for somebody else to dance, Alana”, Frederick said with one last look towards the bar, witnessing Lecter and Will completely immersed into an apparently rather avid conversation. Alana shrugged and Reba smiled at her, “Maybe I’ll let you borrow him at some point …” Alana’s smile widened, “I might take up on that offer …”

 

As Frederick led his not-date to the dance floor, Reba leaned in close, “I hope that I didn’t embarrass you with my observation?”

 

Frederick shook his head, “Nothing that Alana didn’t already know …”

 

The girl at his side nodded, “Good. … Would you like to know a secret in return?” Intrigued, Frederick lean in closer, “Sure …” Reba leaned even further in, “Alana also has a crush on Will.”

 

“WHAT?!” Frederick exclaimed, quickly lowering his voice again as his outburst had turned a few heads. Reba only chuckled quietly, “Her voice takes the same fond tone when you mock Will. My money is on the fact that she has a crush on him as well.”

 

“Even though she has a girlfriend?” Frederick asked.

 

Reba shrugged, “Sure. One does not necessarily exclude the other …”

 

Frederick nodded, “That certainly is true …”

 

Reba, with that spectacular seventh sense of hers, knew that they had arrived at the dance floor. So she spun around on her heels and laid her hand on Frederick’s shoulder while the other took the Cuban’s in the appropriate gesture. “So, Frederick. You have one chance to convince me to let you lead …”

 

The addressed man smiled, “Well, I’ll have you know that my abuelita had me practice more than my English …” Reba’s joyful laugh had even Will and Hannibal look over at them.

 

After three spins on the dance floor, Reba still hadn’t taken over the lead, which Frederick took as a good sign. As he did when Alana asked if she was allowed to take over for a change. Reba, after both of the psychology students had assured that she would be fine on her own, went over to the bar. Alana pointed out after they had waltzed for about a minute that the girl had already befriended somebody – which turned out to be Beverly Katz and Brian Zeller. The young man chuckled and shook his head. That was so very Reba …

 

“I have to say, Frederick, you do surprise me …” Alana said after their first dance.

 

The addressed one raised his eyebrow, “Indeed? And why is that, Ms. Bloom?”

 

She sighed dramatically, “Showing up, bringing someone as great as Reba and your dancing skills are really quite impressive. I have to say, not what I expected …”

 

Frederick smirked at Alana’s teasing, “I cannot decide whether to reply _I am sorry to disappoint_ or _happy to surprise_ …”

 

“Take that latter”, the young women winked and as a result, Frederick spun her around in a way that had her laugh out loudly again. This time though, Frederick did not witness Will and Hannibal Lecter looking over at them.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Frederick Chilton could not believe how his life had changed.

He briefly considered to send Brian Zeller a thank-you-note, but decided against it. It would only get to the tutor’s head anyway …

 

However, had it not been for the truly disastrous video he would never have met Reba and Dee, would never have gone to the Winter Dance and hence never would have had the chance to impress with his dancing skills. Dancing skills that were quite the topic of conversation now, in his clinical psychology class (thanks to Alana and even Will) and well as in the criminal psychology one (thanks to Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller _and_ Will Graham yet again). Alana had even threatened to dump Will on upcoming dances and go with Frederick, which Frederick believed would serve the other student just fine.

Things were looking up, so to speak …

 

Furthermore, he currently found himself standing in front of one big and intimidating Baltimore town house, property of one Francis Dolarhyde, which was Dee’s real name as Frederick had come to find out. Once again, he had a cooler with yet another Cuban desert at his side, despite the already chilly December-weather. Reba had called for that occasion, probably not all too surprisingly. Frederick assumed that Dee himself would never have invited him into his house. Even though he was under the impression that the tall man had let his guard down around him somewhat after Reba hadn’t shut up about the _great time_ – quote – she had had with Frederick at the dance. Apparently, Reba’s approval meant a considerable heightening of trust towards him. To say that this spiked Frederick’s curiosity would be an understatement.

 

He rang the doorbell and visibly shuddered at the terrifying sound it made. Truth to be told, he did not know what to expect from that house exactly although he suspected something directly from a classical horror movie. At least that’s what it looked like from the outside – Victorian-style, grey exterior (although what lay underneath suspiciously looked like bricks), high towering over everything else on that street (probably not unlike Dee himself) and it even had a small tower. Of course it did.

The inside was probably a different matter, as Reba who would depart from Baltimore tomorrow morning to visit her family in the south over the holidays was responsible for the small Christmas celebration that their meeting would be. Hence, Frederick was sure that she had brought some decoration as well.

 

Frederick was ripped from his musings when he could hear heavy steps from the inside and not two seconds later the huge wooden door was ripped open and revealed Dee. “Hello Frederick” he greeted him with his deep voice and the psychology student tried a smile, “Hi Francis.” He had tried that name out once or twice and felt more comfortable with using Dee’s given name, now that he knew about it. The nickname seemed like a personal joke between the two film students and he had always felt awkward calling the other man by the same.

The other man stepped aside and let Frederick enter – and surely, the inside of the house (who was he kidding, a mansion; that’s what it was) did not disappoint: It was all dark staircases and high rooms, old floors and dusty air. Frederick was shaken out of his awe by Francis’ voice: “You want to give me your coat?”

 

The psychology student grinned awkwardly at his host as he put down his cooler and shrugged out of his overcoat – the best that he could afford, but it still looked a bit shabby. A fact that he was almost painfully aware inside this town house. Probably Francis was rich; Frederick could say that he had never wasted a single thought on that particular topic. He certainly didn’t look like he had money.

 

“The kitchen is over here …” the deep voice to his left said and as the tall young man walked in front of him into the massive building, Frederick couldn’t hold it any longer: “This house is … quite big …” _Understatement_ , his inner voice screamed at him.

 

“Hm … yes”, Francis said and half-turned his head towards Frederick, “It belonged to my grandmo… grandmother”, the film student elaborated, “I inherited it.”

Frederick nodded, “So you were close?”

 

Frederick could not quite place the nature of that scoff that followed but by the “She raised me …” that came after that, the Cuban detected that there was some kind of story behind that. Still, Francis clearly wasn’t sharing and hence, he did not press further. Most of all because they arrived in the kitchen area and Frederick had to smile at a rather busy looking Reba, who was mixing cocktails. “Dee? Where on earth did you put the olives? … Frederick?”

 

“The very same”, the Cuban said, walked over and offered Reba a small hug whilst Francis grumbled a “The fridge, Reba …” Frederick could almost hear how the other man bit his tongue at the way fridge came out of his mouth. As a diversion, he waved his hand, “I’ll get them. I have to put the desert in anyway …” the psychology student offered and Reba gave him a huge smile; surely not only because he was offering to get the olives she needed for their martinis.

 

“Desert … splendid. But, let’s have the martinis first”, the dark-skinned girl exclaimed and clapped her hands together. “And then I can point out the traps that Dee has set out for us …”

 

Frederick raised an eyebrow whilst the other young man sighed, “For your information, I am never putting up decoration again … It was your idea after all!” Curiosity spiked, Frederick was led into the dining hall – it really was a dining hall – martini in hand and, once they entered, he had to chuckle: “I see. Very sneaky of you …” He hoped that the snark in his voice covered the awe at least some. The dining room was stuffed with mistletoes, tied together with red ribbons. There even were fairy lights at the window. Frederick would never have taken the tall and grumpy student to commit to decorating like that.

 

“I don’t know how you can even tell …” Francis’ voice came from behind them, which had Reba chuckle, “I can smell them … There are ribbons around them, aren’t there?” she asked Frederick who only crooked his head towards Francis: “Red ones”, he confirmed.

 

Reba took a sip of her martini before she teased their host: “Sap.”

 

 

At their Christmas dinner, Frederick couldn’t fight the notion that he was transported right back into the South of the last century: Francis had taken out beautifully painted porcelain, crystal glasses and silver cutlery. The Cuban was burning to ask why his grandmother – because there was no way in hell that Francis was rooting for floral patterns like that – had such pompous dining utensils, but he didn’t dare to ask right out of the blue.

 

During their dinner that consisted of quite a fancy salad as a starter and the most delicious steaks that Frederick had ever tasted, it started to snow heavily outside. As he looked over to the window and exclaimed in surprise, Reba smirked: “Okay, after dinner, we’re going outside.”

 

Francis groaned around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, but Reba had none of it: “As you surely are aware, I cannot see them, so I need to feel them. So we’re going outside, end of story!” Francis rolled his eyes at Frederick over the table and the psychology student offered him a smile.

 

The three of them decided that they would go outside right after the main course as all three were for too stuffed to eat Frederick’s desert (“No way we’re ditching Frederick’s desert … We’ll keep it for later” quote Reba). So they huddled up in their thick overcoats – well, he and Reba did, Francis just put on a leather jacket that made Frederick wonder how the other young man did not freeze to death – and went outside. Even though the street was right in front of the house and it wasn’t even that late, no cars were out anymore. Frederick had always found it fascinating how quickly the first snow slowed a city as big as Baltimore down. And the first fall of snow was quite impressive: The whole street was already sporting a quite thick layer of the white and fluffy-looking substance. Reba squealed in delight as she ran her hands over the soft surface that instantly melted at the brush of her warm hand.

 

“Oh, this is great”, she exclaimed, turning her head towards the skies, thick snowflakes collecting in her dark hair.

 

Frederick let the young woman’s enchantment wash over himself and committed to a smile, “It always seems to me as if the first snow mutes everything … Don’t you think?” he asked as an afterthought wondering if yet again, he made a fool of himself. But Reba winked – actually winked at him – after telling him that he was absolutely right and even Francis curled the corner of his lips upward.

 

“It all looks so untouched”, their host mused, crooking his head. “Almost innocent.”

 

Frederick tried to suppress his smile this time. The first snow even seemed to rid the other young man of his fear of s-sounds. Reba’s chuckle, however, brought him back to reality: “And we cannot have that, can we?” she announced almost dramatically and before the two men realized what was happening, Reba had grabbed a hand of each of them and pulled them right onto the empty street before she started running towards the next crossroad. Frederick had to giggle himself, running along and he was certain that he heard something akin to a laugh from Francis as well.

 

 

Once they returned into Francis’ house, more wet than dry, Reba deemed hot wine an appropriate beverage and set out to make some for the three of them while Frederick and Francis should put on the movie they had decided to watch. _Singing in the Rain_. Frederick had to smile yet again – it was one of his all-time favorites.

What he hadn’t anticipated though was the ancient-looking 8mm-projector that Francis had set up in his living room. “How on earth do you own such a thing?” the Cuban exclaimed once he had caught the first glimpse of the machine.

 

Francis shrugged, “It was in the house …”

 

The other young man shook his head, “This is amazing, I have never seen one for real. And you really have _Singing in the Rain_ on 8mm?”

 

Francis grinned awkwardly and nodded, immediately looking down on his feet. He clearly was proud about it – as he rightfully should be, as a film student, Frederick thought – but apparently was afraid to show it. So Frederick tried to intervene a bit there, “I can’t believe it. You know, I’ve been to one theatre in Cuba where they still show 8mm films. But even they said that it was very rare that they even got their hands on old films like that …”

 

Francis looked up at him, and Frederick couldn’t help himself, he thought it was almost sheepish, “There is one in Cuba?” The psychology student nodded whilst Francis tended to the projector as he himself would be far too insecure and afraid to ruin something if he offered his help. “I know that there is one in Vienna … but I’ve never been to a cinema that actually shows 8mm films.”

 

Frederick smiled, “It’s pretty cool. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I like the new technology as well, once I get around to actually go to the cinema, that is, but these classics have their own … charm. And in a format like that … I’m impressed …”

 

Francis, who had finished putting the reel in, grinned at him and Frederick smiled back. As Reba came into the living room a few minutes later, mugs with hot wine and his desert on a tray and they all sat down and watched the classic musical (Reba, of course, listened; but she pointed out that she liked musicals because she could hear the steps during the dancing scenes), Frederick couldn’t help himself: This felt much more like happiness than anything else he had experienced in the last few years.

 

Of course, their evening had to end – or, better, they had the intention to end their evening at around half past one in the morning, but the weather had other plans: Once they had ceased their post-film discussion with Reba’s “I think I really need to go now – I have to catch my train in the morning” they looked out the window and saw that there practically was a blizzard out there.

 

“No” Francis stated simply and Reba raised her eyebrow, “What do you mean, no?”

 

“Reba, it’s storming like mad out there …” Frederick said, too aware of the fact that he himself had to get home still as well.

 

“You’re staying …” Francis boomed, supposedly so that Reba knew there was no room for arguments. Frederick wondered if the invitation extended to him as well. Which it did, as Francis declared that he would get two rooms for them ready and vanished upstairs.

 

As he and Reba tended to the dished rather quietly – they were really tired after all – Frederick dreaded the upcoming “sleep-over”. Not because of the house or something like that; no. He had a very specific problem: He could not sleep in his prosthetic. Well, scratch that. He _could_ sleep in his prosthetic, but the next morning, his whole face would hurt like hell. He had done that very thing on a few rare occasion either when he had somebody stay overnight or he stayed somewhere – mostly because he did not want to trample the already very thin hope that last night’s conquest would contact him again into the ground right away – and one morning it had been so bad that he couldn’t even drink from a coffee mug properly.

Thankfully, Francis offered to prepare two rooms for them, so he at least didn’t have to share. But: What if somebody came in and woke him up? What if out of pure habit, he forgot to put it in if he had to go to the toilet? What if, God forbid, there was an emergency during the night?

 

This was why, when Francis had shown Frederick his room that was across the hall from the one he had prepared for Reba whilst he slept in the attic, the psychology student waited until he heard nothing but dead silence, and even a few minutes more, just to be certain, before he started stripping down to his boxer briefs and his shirt. Thankfully, Francis had managed to heat the house up to a degree where a usually always freezing Frederick was still pleasantly warm. He blamed his Cuban genes. He saved his prosthetic for the very last and put it carefully on a handkerchief onto his bedside table. The student felt most awkward doing so, it wasn’t his own home after all. Somehow and despite that nobody else was in the room, he felt strangely exposed.

 

Just as he crawled under the soap-smelling covers and wanted to reach over to switch off the bedside lamp, his door flew open without any preamble and Francis stood in the doorframe. “I just …” he started, waving two white towels in his hand, but stopped mid-sentence and stared at the young man sitting upright in the bed. Frederick’s hand flew automatically up to cover his face, but judging by the look on Francis’ own facial features, it was too late. He had seen everything. Whilst the Cuban prayed that he bed would swallow him up as a whole, the other student recovered more quickly than Frederick could scream at the other one that he should get out. And one couldn’t really do that while practically being on weather-induced sleep-overs, could you? “I forgot to give you towels …” was all Francis said before he slammed the door shut and most certainly had woken up Reba in the process. Frederick quickly considered to put in the prosthetic again, if the girl came across the hall and wanted to ensure that everything was alright, but after a few minutes of complete silence, he finally dared to switch the light off and let himself sink into the covers. What a disaster!

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Needless to say, Frederick did not sleep very well.

So as soon as he heard that Reba was done in the bathroom that was situated right next to his room, he put his prosthetic in and showered rather quickly, before he joined the two film students downstairs. Francis had prepared some breakfast, presumable with a little help from Reba, and both were already chatting away. As soon as Frederick entered the room, Francis looked up sharply at him, but immediately wished him a good morning whilst pouring him some coffee. Reba – as Frederick was already far too aware of – was a gift from heaven as she managed to disperse the tension hanging over the whole breakfast as she told Frederick how _Dee_ had managed to shovel all the snow away from the street so that he could drive first Reba to the train station and then drop Frederick off at his flat. “Oh, don’t bother, I’ll take a bus or … something”, the psychology student tried to get out of being in a car alone with Francis after what happened yesterday, but it was a lost battle. Reba would have none of it (and quite frankly, Frederick was sure that due to the snow the bus would take ages – to arrive and to venture to his home as well).

 

So about an hour later, the two men were standing in front of the train station, waiting for Reba to get her bag that they had collected earlier out of the trunk of Francis’ car. The dark-skinned girl then hugged first him and then Francis goodbye and made them promise to call her while she stayed with her family or otherwise she would deem them responsible for her decreasing sanity: “’Cause as much as I love my family, they will drive me crazy over the ten days I’m spending with them. You should know the damage that can be done in such a timespan, Frederick!” The psychology student chuckled good-heartedly while he was inwardly dreading the time he would be spending with Francis in the car in the nearest future.

 

After Francis had asked if they should get to the platform with Reba, who predictably declined, the two young men drove off in Francis’ car. After Frederick had given the film student his address, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. As Frederick realized that they still had to drive for at least twenty more minutes, he was about to say something like: “Come on, ask already so that we can put the awkwardness behind us …” when surprisingly Francis beat him at ending the silence: “I am sorry Frederick for … what happened last night. I had no right to barge in like that …”

 

Stunned, that the other man had spoken first, he quickly shook out of his stupor: “It wasn’t your fault. I … I don’t know why it bothers me so much if other people see it. Probably because not many people have.” He chuckled nervously, “Believe me, I know that I should be working on this and probably see a therapist …”

 

Francis looked over at him with a small smile on his lips that Frederick mirrored, even if uncertainly. After a few moments of silence, albeit a much more comfortable one than before, Francis spoke up again: “How … How did that happen?”

 

Frederick sighed and nodded. It was the most natural follow-up question … which did not mean that he was happy about answering it. He pressed his lips together and looked at the snow-covered road in front of them. “I was fifteen. My father … He came back from the bar he always went to after work. He … he did not like what my mother had prepared for dinner and he started complaining. Verbally and physically. Physically means that he was mostly throwing stuff around which was nothing unusual.” Frederick risked one quick glance over to the other young man who thankfully looked straight onto the road and did not cast him a pitying glance. The Cuban sighed, “But that night, it was particularly bad. Once he threatened to empty the still steaming hot pan over my Mami’s head, I hit him. I did not do it consciously, I just acted. Afterwards I was so stunned that I stood there, paralyzed. And … well, he did not take it well. He took advantage of me not quite processing what had happened and he started hitting me in the face.” Frederick heard a sharp intake of breath to his left. “But apparently, that wasn’t enough. He took me by the neck and smashed my face, the left side, against the table until it crumbled. I don’t remember that though. I only remember waking up in hospital with a bandaged head, not being able to speak properly. When they took the bandages down …” Frederick snorted, “I wanted to die.” The psychology student still could remember that moment as if it happened yesterday – and probably would for the rest of his life. How he had not recognized his face in the mirror, how he had realized that the left side of his face was _gone_ and would never come back. How he felt like a monster; a monster that no one in their right mind would be able to love.

 

Francis hummed, “Yes. I understand.”

 

Only after a few moments of consideration, Frederick realized that Francis probably really did understand. In contrast to so many of the other people who had told him that particular sentence before. Due to the fact that Francis probably really could relate, the next question might have been predictable: “If you don’t wear the … pro-prosthetic, can you talk?”

 

Frederick looked over at the student sitting in the driver’s seat: “Not properly.” Francis nodded with a slight grin and Frederick curled one corner of his lips upwards as well. “It’s not that bad though … I’m pretty sure it looks worse than it sounds.” _Like a zombie skull talking_ , Frederick thought bitterly.

 

“Maybe we should set up a contest …” the film student suggested jokingly and Frederick huffed, “Seriously? I’d win easily.”

 

Francis raised an eyebrow, “Modest, are we?”

 

The psychology student crooked his head, “Always. I have learned that you have to sell your qualities in order to cover your weaknesses. And I am telling you, your speech is way better than my own.”

 

As Francis didn’t say anything and just stared at the surprisingly empty road in front of them, Frederick continued, “I know that it’s probably hard to believe, most of all because you yourself are your worst critic, but your speech is exceptionally good, Francis.” As a non-committal hum followed, Frederick added, “You know – and this is probably very rich, coming from me – but you shouldn’t care so much about your s-sounds.” Another hum followed, so the psychology student elaborated, “Yesterday, for example: When we were out in the snow, you didn’t even think about protecting your speech – and you barely stumbled over a single s or th. I know that it’s not easy and it’s going to be quite a process, but you could try and be more open about it … Maybe it’ll help in the long run.” Frederick shrugged, unaware if he overstepped his boundaries and in consequence trampled their blooming friendship into the ground again.

 

After another few moments of silence, Francis finally answered, “I was raised by my grandmother. And she didn’t think that more than the most basic operations were necessary. So once I got old enough to sign up and pay for my own operation, it was too late. The doctors said that they would have to break the bones in my oral cavity again to make up for the damage and … I would have to learn to speak properly all over again.”

 

“Ungh!” Frederick shuddered at the mere thought that somebody would willingly destroy certain areas of one’s face, “Take it from somebody who must know: You did well not to do _that_. Jesus!”

 

Francis smiled over almost shyly and Frederick grinned back.

Striving for a change of topic, he asked: “So you said your grandmother raised you … Is the impressive town house hers then?”

 

Francis chuckled, “Yes. It has been in the family for ages. I inherited it …”

 

‘Oh dear, another bad topic …’ Frederick thought and offered his condolences which he hadn’t been able to do last night when Francis had already told him that. But Francis only shook his head, “I … To say that I hated her would not be right. I am very thankful that she decided to raise me, most of all when my mother turned away from me due to my … condition.” Frederick visibly flinched. So they could commiserate on parent-related trauma as well, splendid. “But it wasn’t always easy. She was a very … dominating woman and was caught in her own, antiquated world with the same antiquated beliefs. It didn’t help that she ran a nursing home for elderly people either. So yes … as I said it was anything but easy but I knew that she meant well even though I think she could not show her own feelings very well.”

 

Frederick nodded, “Hm, sounds like quite a challenge to live with her, especially in your youth … And the house was the nursing home, right?” Francis only nodded and the Cuban wondered what it had to be like to grow up in the middle of old and dying people. Francis certainly didn’t have the easiest childhood either …

 

“I still have to clean out the house …” the other student started suddenly and brought Frederick back to reality, “… there’s still so much stuff in there like wheelchairs and sanitary supplies. That all needs to go. Maybe I’ll do it over the winter break …”

 

A thought struck Frederick and he wasn’t sure if he suggested it out of pure consideration or because he was a tad curious about the old town house – probably the latter – but before he could think better of it, he asked if Francis needed any help. Met with the almost scared stare of the other student, the Cuban asked himself if yet again, this had been a mistake. “You don’t want to do that … It’s … not pretty”, the film student replied. Frederick however only shrugged, “Well, I have to say I’m a little curious about your house. I have never been in such an old building … And I am alone during my holidays anyway, so a little bit of company from time to time would be nice. But if that interferes with any of your plans …”

 

“No!” Francis interjected almost too quickly and Frederick’s head whipped around comically only to see that a slight blush covered Francis’ cheeks. He started again, more quiet this time, “No, I’d … I’d like it if you came around some time.”

 

The psychology student smiled and nodded, “Very good, I’d like that too. So in the mornings, I’d rather work a little on some of my papers as mornings are generally more productive than afternoons for me, but maybe sometime in the afternoon or the evening?”

 

Francis turned around with a smile, “Yes. I’d like that Frederick.”

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

In retrospect, Frederick probably should have known what supplies to find in a nursing home. Francis had said that there were wheelchairs and sanitary supplies already. So he did expect to find bandages, a shitload of lotions and pills, diapers even. And he truly did find things like that – but what Frederick wasn’t expecting was the sheer amount of supplies there was.

 

When he had arrived about two days after their sleepover at four in the afternoon, after he had called Francis in the morning and asking if today would be a good day, he already saw boxes with blankets and pillows in the huge foyer. Francis who had opened the door with a small smile, had already started to collect the to-be-sorted-out-items in the morning. Still, he showed Frederick a room on the first floor of the house, not far from the room he had spent the night in, as the psychology student realized. As soon as the taller man opened the door, Frederick’s jaw dropped. In the room that was surely not lacking in size-terms were diapers. Solely diapers. A whole room full of them. “Yes”, Francis said, “She did like to hoard things …”

 

“No shit”, Frederick answered, still paralyzed by the sight in front of him, which elicited a quiet chuckle from the other student.

 

“We uh …” Francis continued with that deep voice of his, “we need to pack this into the boxes next door …”

 

After Francis had opened the door to their right, Frederick did find his speech again: “How many boxes do we need?!” he exclaimed sarcastically.

 

They needed 34. 34 boxes and about an hour to pack the diapers, carry them into the foyer and placing them next to the blankets and the pillows. “What on earth are you going to do with this stuff?” Frederick mused a little out of breath, once they had placed the last boxes downstairs. To be fair, Francis had carried way more of them than Frederick did.

 

The film student crooked his head, “I have called a few nursing homes and offered the stuff to them. It looks as if I’ll need to drive quite a few times though …”

 

Frederick nodded, still eyes the boxes in disbelieve. “How much more is there?”

 

“Enough …” Francis said with a small grin on his lips and Frederick shuddered. “Jesus Christ, she truly was a hoarder …” As soon as the Cuban realized what he had been saying, he bit his tongue, “Sorry.”

 

Francis, however, only chuckled, “Yes, she was. There could be a war brooding and hence cause a shortage of supplies”, the other young man added with a wink.

 

“Of course”, Frederick answered, still a little out of breath, “How thoughtful of her.”

 

Francis nodded, mimicking Frederick’s sarcastic tone: “Yes. She even kept the supplies long after her last patient had passed away.”

 

The psychology student smirked, “Because you can never know …”

 

“Exactly.” Both young men started chuckling. Then Francis nodded his head towards the kitchen, “Come on, we both deserve a drink after this …” Well, Frederick couldn’t agree more.

 

 

As they had sat down on the sofa in the living room, both with a glass of wine in their hand, Frederick shook his head, “That was kind of unsettling …”

 

Francis grinned, “I know, believe me. I don’t even want to think about the room with the pills and tonics that are surely all expired by at least three years …”

 

The psychology student made a face, “Ungh. She didn’t leave out anything, did she?”

 

Francis chuckled and shook his head. Once both of them had settled into a rather comfortable silence – and really, Frederick thought, hadn’t they come a long way – Francis let his head drop onto the backrest of the sofa, exposing his long neck. As soon as the psychology student realized that he was staring at that particular piece of skin, he shook his head and took another sip of his wine. Hopefully the other student hadn’t seen him. Truth to be told, since they had started talking to each other and hence spent more time in the other man’s presence (usually with Reba though) Frederick couldn’t help but realize that Francis was a rather handsome guy. In a very intimidating way, of course, but nevertheless. He was tall, muscular (yes, the carrying down of the boxes just then had done nothing to banish thought about the other man’s muscles from Frederick’s mind, thank you very much), had beautiful blue eyes and a very nice voice. And, as the Cuban had come to know, he was a very kind and understanding person … and funny in his own brooding way. Of course, Frederick was aware that these thoughts would most likely lead nowhere, except maybe to some very inappropriate fantasies while masturbating. He had witnessed that he and Reba had been in a relationship after all. So he thought that for once, he would spare himself the disappointment … which did not mean that he could not appreciate the other student’s looks from a certain distance.

 

Said appreciation, however, did not go unnoticed by Francis himself: “What?” he asked with a slight grin in his voice, “You cannot say that I didn’t warn you …”

 

Frederick chuckled, glad that his staring had been misinterpreted, “That I cannot. In fact, I was just contemplating if I should be helping you with the medication as well …” _White lie_ , he internally screamed. But it had Francis raise his eyebrows questioningly at him, which the Cuban countered with a smile.

 

Taking another sip of his own wine, the film student hummed, “I’m almost certain that this was not how you had planned your Christmas to go …”

 

Frederick was a bit taken aback; he had completely forgotten about the fact that tomorrow would be December 25th. “Uh …”, he uttered eloquently, “I didn’t plan anything, actually, so I might as well sort pill bottles with you if it helps …” He chuckled nervously.

 

“Your family not in town?” Francis asked which had Frederick shake his head, “No, my mother is visiting my abuelita in Cuba. And as I said my father …” He trailed off but Francis only looked at him in silent understanding. “And you? Any family around?” Frederick asked after a few moments of silence. Sure, he knew that Francis’ grandmother had just died but maybe his mother had taken up the contact with her son again – or he might have other relatives around.

 

The film student only shook his head though, “No. I mean yes but … they don’t want any contact with … me.”

 

The psychology student frowned but chose not to reply anything. What could you reply to that anyway? So, after finishing his glass of wine, the Cuban stood up, “Well then, better be alone together, right? Where are the pills?!”

 

Francis chuckled, drowned his own glass and stood up, “Follow me …” Frederick smiled and gladly did.

 

About three hours later, they had accomplished the impossible, well, at least to Frederick’s estimation: The two students had worked themselves through a whole room full of pills and medication of any sort imaginable. At first, they had decided to simply throw everything out, but then they had discovered that some of the pills – to both of their bone-shattering surprise – were still good for use. Which could be considered a true miracle as others had expired about twenty-five years ago. So they had worked through the ones already placed in huge garbage bags, celebrated a minor success and started on the rest of them. After three hours they had about thirteen bags of trash and one box of good ones.

 

Once the two had a proper look outside, they realized that it already was dark – they’d known that before – and that the snowing had started again. Frederick groaned, calculating further delays on already delayed busses. It was Christmas time after all.

 

Francis, who had just placed the box with the still usable medication next to some of the diapers, hummed. “So we better get going before it starts to snow even heavier …”

 

“Where to?” Frederick asked which caused Francis to turn around sharply, “I’m driving you home of course …”

 

The psychology student, touched by the offer but well aware that Francis planned on dropping off the thirteen bags of expired medication at the waste disposal center before Christmas, waved his hand in dismissal. You don’t have to. I can easily take the bus since you have …” a wave towards the mountain of boxes followed, “… enough to do already.”

 

“I insist.”

That was all Francis said before he got his leather jacket from the rack and started to carry four or five garbage bags out into his van. ‘Well then’, Frederick thought, ‘who am I to argue with that?’

 

As Francis dropped Frederick off at his flat before he took care of the bags. Thanking the other student profusely, Frederick already wanted to climb out of the car, when Francis stopped him: “Ah … do you … Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?”

 

The Cuban thought that he had misunderstood the other young man and apparently, it showed as Francis quickly looked from the vague area of Frederick’s torso to the street in front of him: “Or not. I’m sure you already had other ideas than spending Christmas at a gloomy house like mine …”

 

“I’d love to”, Frederick said quickly and put on an honest smile, “Thank you for the invitation.”

 

“Seven?” Francis asked while he looked over to the psychology student again with a certain glint to his eyes.

 

“Perfect. What should I bring along?” Frederick asked but Francis only shook his head, “Nothing. Con-“, he cleared his throat, “Consider it as a Thank you-dinner.”

 

“If you are sure …” Frederick asked again but he already knew of the mind of the other student was set on something, there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise.

 

“I am”, Francis quite predictably answered and Frederick smiled at him. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow at seven. Good night … and thank you for driving me home.”

 

“Tomorrow”, Francis said and with that, Frederick left that car, turned around halfway to his house and waved at the student in the car. Only after Frederick ad entered the house and the door had locked behind him, the Cuban heard the engine of the van roar and Francis leave for the waste disposal center. Frederick couldn’t help but let a small smile play on his lips.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

It was stupid, it really was. Stupid and ridiculous.

Frederick was tempted to laugh at himself in the mirror. Not because he was made aware of how unfit he actually was, not because he was standing there in his freezing flat in his underwear, goosebumps all over his body, but because it was the eighth time he was changing outfits that afternoon. And his dinner with Francis wasn’t even a date! It certainly wasn’t. That guy was probably as far away from any romantic feelings towards the psychology student as he himself was from getting praise from Hannibal Lecter. Or Jack Crawford, for that matter.

 

Still, he had shredded the eighth outfit and stopped himself just in time from ruffling his styled hair. Well, as styled as he was able to, anyway. He took a good long glance in the mirror and shook his head. ‘Enough!’ he thought vehemently. He would grab the dark jeans and the shirt with the fine white and red stripes on a light blue ground and his red cashmere cardigan that he had gotten for his birthday and that was it. His final decision. It wasn’t as if Francis would even notice what he would be wearing. Jesus Christ! He was already running late anyway …

 

 

Even though Frederick was almost certain that Francis really did not give his attire a second thought, the Cuban was not immune to appreciate Francis’. The taller student wore black pleated-front trousers with a fine belt and a dark blue button down as he opened the door and took Frederick’s coat like a gentleman. They both had agreed previously that acquiring last-minute presents would be entirely too stressful for both of them and hence, they started with the dinner right away. (Frederick had argued about Francis cooking dinner, but the film student had assured him in return that the help he had gotten in the cleaning of the house made more than up for it.) After a hearty soup Francis disappeared in the kitchen – Frederick was not allowed to help – and hence was left to admire once more the fine porcelain that the film student had set the table with. There were even candles – he tried not to interpret anything into them – and hollies as decoration. Some of the mistletoes that had been there for their evening with Reba were gone though, as he realized. To say Frederick was impressed and a little intimidated would have been an understatement.

 

Francis came out of the kitchen first with a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes and a plate with green beans, disappeared again and as he came out of the kitchen once again, Frederick’s jaw dropped. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asked without being able to activate any sort of brain-to-mouth-filter.

 

Francis was carrying a huge tablet with roasted pork on it. “Did I do what on purpose?” the film student asked but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.

 

Frederick had to smile broadly, despite wanting to seem poised, “Do you want to tell me that you serving the traditional Cuban Christmas dish when I’m having Christmas dinner at your house is a mere coincidence?”

 

The film student grinned while he placed some of the meat onto Frederick’s plate before he disappeared into the kitchen once again, only to return moments later with avocado salad. If possible, Frederick’s smile even widened. How could he have known? Frederick was sure that he hadn’t seemed downcast as he had mentioned his mother visiting her mother and some extended family and friends in Cuba. Still, Francis had obviously gotten the hang of the fact that he missed his mother dearly on a day like this … and apparently, he had consulted Google and cooked a Cuban meal. For him. Maybe the nine outfit-changes had been worth it after all.

 

Frederick, fighting back a tear most vehemently, laid his hand on Francis’, who had just placed the avocado salad next to him and looked up at the other young man: “Thank you. I …” Frederick swallowed but the lump in his throat didn’t disappear, “Thank you.” Francis smiled and once again sat down opposite of him. Frederick was thankful that the other student wasn’t too keen on conversation this once.

 

Even though Francis stated that Frederick was not to help washing the dishes, the Cuban made a point by underlining that his abuelita would run after him with a wet dishcloth if she knew about the fact that he skipped washing up. So the two of them shared the task, Frederick once again thanking the film student for his troubles, who simply shrugged and quietly said, “It was no trouble.”

 

 

Once Frederick had introduced his host to the fact that mojitos generally required way less sugar than the majority of receipts suggested – at least that’s how his mother had always made them – they took the drinks up to Francis room. The psychology student was curious about that room, to say the least. Most of all because of the shy way Francis had asked if he would like to take the drinks “up there”. Surprisingly, they did not venture into the first floor, where Frederick himself had slept a few nights previous, but climbed the stairs all the way up into the attic. Once the two students arrived under the roof – and really, Frederick thought, it was like straight from a gothic novel – the Cuban was rather impressed. Impressed and also a little intimidated which probably became the synonym with everything surrounding one Francis Dolarhyde:

Francis’ “room” took up the whole space under the roof, so it really was a single, huge open space. In there stood the projector that the film student must have carried down at their shared Christmas dinner, a sofa and a small table, a rather plain double bed – little more than a mattress really – a huge desk with numerous papers on it but all kept neatly in order, an old wardrobe, some paintings that were standing around leaning against the wall, a broken mirror and a multitude of fitness instruments. As Frederick had taken all in, he turned towards Francis with a smile: “So you like to work out then …”

 

“Hm, yes.” It looked awkward how insecure a huge guy like Francis folded himself onto the only sofa in the room shyly. Frederick smiled and sat down next to him, offering his own mojito glass in a toast, “Merry Christmas Francis.” That got him another smile and a “Merry Christmas Frederick.”

 

Once both had taken a little sip of the not-quite-winterly drink, Francis nodded, “Yes. It tastes better with less sugar …”

 

“Right?” Frederick nodded, “If only the bars around got the hang of it.”

 

Francis chuckled and seemed to be more relaxed about having Frederick in his room. It was odd somehow, the other student had invited him up here after all. Still, Frederick tried to make him more comfortable, “I like your room. Well, if room covers it. More of a floor really.”

 

The other young man looked down, “It’s not … It’s not much but I am planning on changing that. Maybe I’ll move downstairs into one of the other rooms but until now …” He trailed off and it seemed that he was rather lost in thought for a moment. Quickly, he looked over at his guest while Frederick did his best to look reassuring. “It was the only room that my grandmother did not come to … frequently anymore. She had become too old.”

 

Frederick nodded and smiled, “A little privacy really is a nice thing, isn’t it?”

 

“Hm.” Francis nodded, “She didn’t like it when I was training. I … I only wore shorts and she thought it to be inappropriate.”

 

Frederick frowned. Maybe it would have been inappropriate to sit down at dinner with all the other old people in only his shorts or boxers, but up here? He replied, “You did say that she had very firm believes …” As only a silent hum followed, the psychology student thought it was time for a change of subject: “So, I take it you like to train a lot.”

 

“Yes”, Francis looked up at him with a small grin on his lips. “I took it up when I was thirteen. People at school always made fun of me and … hurt me so I did something to protect myself.”

 

Frederick nodded, “Understandable.” He noted that Francis did not say fought or beat but _hurt him_. Almost as if he didn’t dare to use a more “adult” vocabulary. “I should have done the same really. Both, because of the bullies in school and my father at home. But somehow I never took up physical exercise. And it already shows, doesn’t it?” Frederick chuckled to cover up his own insecurity about his physical appearance. He had seen quite a lot of himself in the mirror that afternoon after all.

 

“No it doesn’t”, was all he got for a reply. He crocked his head and took another sip of his mojito. In the meantime, Francis had straightened a bit on the sofa. “Why were you bullied in school? Because of the prosthetic?”

 

Frederick shook his head, “No. It started way earlier than that. I was bullied for being gay – which of course I didn’t know at the time. But some of the tough guys got the hang of it and called me names, punched me from time to time, you know. Today I think that they simply thought me to be different and associated it with being gay … Anyways, good thing that these days are over.” Frederick shuddered and took another sip of liquid courage.

 

Francis nodded, “Yeah. … When I first got bullied in school about my speech and my scar, I smashed the mirror over there. I couldn’t stand the way I am … was. Whatever.”

 

As the other student seemed to crumble into a ball again, Frederick felt it his obligation to intercept: “You are a beautiful human being, Francis. Inside and out. I mean, you cooked a Cuban Christmas dinner just so I would feel better. You sort through all of your grandmother’s rubbish – sorry – and take the still useable stuff to nursing homes in need. And if you think your scar dis figures you, you are seriously mistaken. Take it from someone who must know what he is talking about: You are a very handsome man – and not only because that training of yours shows.”

 

Frederick was suddenly afraid that he had overstepped the boundaries of the tentative friendship he had formed with the other student be he simply needed to tell him. The way Francis was beating himself up about his speech and his scar was heartbreaking.

 

Francis looked sheepishly up from beneath his eyelashes: “You really think so?”

 

“Of course I do”, Frederick emphasized, “And I hope that it does not make you feel uncomfortable, but I just had to tell you. You beat yourself up about something that is completely insignificant.”

 

The other student shook his head, “It does not. … Make me feel uncomfortable.”

 

They both grinned at each other, somewhat awkwardly before they merged into an awkward silence. Frederick asked himself for the probably hundredth time that evening where this whole thing was going. Somehow, their dynamic had changed as soon as Reba was out of the equation, so to speak. But in which direction they headed still was a mystery to the Cuban.

 

“Frederick?” Francis’ deep voice sounded after some moments only filled with their breathing.

 

“Hm?” the psychology student answered and looked over somewhat lazily to the other young man who currently bit his lower lip.

 

“I – Would you trust me enough to let me see it?”

 

Frederick straightened and shook his head, “See what?”

 

Francis blushed, “Your own … scar.”

 

On an impulse, Frederick wanted to scream something like “Certainly not!” He hated of other people than his mother and abuelita saw him without his prosthetic – and even with those two he didn’t particularly like it. On the other hand, he had just given Francis a speech about being sure about yourself – and what a hypocrite would he be if he was completely self-conscious about his own disfiguration even though it was worse than Francis’? Furthermore, the way Francis clutched his mojito glass and didn’t dare to look at him had something endearing. And the way he had phrased the question … _trusted_ him enough. Frederick decided that he would do one of the scariest things that he could imagine and nodded. “Alright, let’s get this over with …”

 

As Frederick put down his glass onto the table in front of them – after taking another sip, mind – Francis mirrored his action and straightened on the sofa. The psychology student chuckled and said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you …” before he grabbed the left side of his teeth and pulled them out in a well-practiced manner. While doing so, he had to close his eyes as his left lid would be dropping down way over his eye. Once he had pulled the prosthetic out and took a deep breath to settle his fluttering stomach, he opened them again. He found himself to be face to face with his host, who had moved closer without making a single sound.

 

“Thhere”, Frederick said, already cursing his unclear articulation, “You ashked for it.”

 

Francis however didn’t say anything; he just looked at Frederick in a way no other human being has ever looked at him. Intense, like he wanted to commit every detail to memory. The way the other student’s eyes traced his face stood in sharp contrast to the inability of Francis to look him in the eyes only minutes ago. The Cuban felt strangely exposed.

 

As Francis kept on staring and not saying a single word, Frederick chuckled: “You know, thhis may found weird, but I don’t thhink that I ever ffelt thhat ex-exphosed.”

 

Francis’ eyes quickly darted to Frederick’s, a quick smile flashed onto the other students’ lips before he looked back at the injured part of his face. “Terrible, ifn’t it?” Frederick said and aimed at a chuckle and was surprised to find the film student shaking his head.

 

“No, it is not. It’s … You’re beautiful Frederick.”

 

The addressed one snorted, “Shure I am … But thhanks for shaying sho.”

 

Francis smiled, this time more to himself though before he asked, “Can I … May I touch it?”

 

Frederick was sure that he threw his head back in shock – that caused Francis to retreat as well. That, and that he looked like frightened cat. Frederick knew that the comparison was stupid as hell, but still he couldn’t help himself. They stared at each other for quite some time, before Frederick said, “Thhouch it?”

 

Francis quickly shook his head, “It was stupid, forget about it.”

 

Frederick took a deep breath. Why on earth the other student wanted to touch the remnants of his face remained a mystery to him. Still, he carefully inched closer. “Okay …” he said, himself not quite sure why he agreed to this. No one except his Mami and abuelita had touched that part of his face … with or without the prosthetic. Still, something made him agree to the request of the other young man, whatever it was.

 

Francis, however, only shook his head, “No, it’s okay …” The blue eyes were already cast onto the floor again.

 

The psychology student took another deep breath and took Francis’ hand. An alarmed look on the other man’s face later, Frederick gently guided the large and warm hand towards the left side of his face. He stopped only centimeters away from his skin: “Jhsht … carefhul, okay?” Francis nodded, biting his lips. Frederick decided that it would be best to simply close his eyes.

 

The first touch of Francis’ fingertips was so light that Frederick almost missed it. Only the sharp intake of breath across from him made him realized that the film student had apparently touched his face for the first time. The second touch was a little bolder, but so gentle that Frederick wondered how a man like that was capable of such tenderness. It might have been a stereotype – most certainly was – but still he was pleasantly surprised.

Fingers started to ghost over his face and after what could have been a few seconds but also minutes, the Cuban dared to open his eyes. And he had to do a double take, not only because he could only see properly with one eye: The intent way Francis looked at him made his skin crawl … and this time not entirely in a bad way. Maybe it was due to the blush that the other man sported or the gleam in his eyes – that really should have been disturbing, but for unfathomable reasons wasn’t. As nothing was spoken on Francis’ part, Frederick gulped: “Like whhath you shee?” he aimed at a joke.

 

As Francis’ blue eyes met his and shone with unshed tears while the other student nodded, Frederick just stopped to even attempt to understand the other man. He simply did not get Francis. And apparently, it showed on his – disfigured – face, as the other student gulped. “You are so strong … to have survived that”, the other man grumbled in his deep voice, “And that makes you wonderful.”

 

Just as Frederick had recovered from the wave of emotion crushing together over him and he wanted to reply something hopefully equally encouraging to Francis, a pair of insecure lips laid on top of his own. The Cuban was so shocked that he at first did not move at all and then, once his brain cells appeared to have caught up with the happenings at hand, let a more than embarrassing sound out. He could not even label what had just come out of his mouth and he could only partly blame his missing prosthetic about that one.

 

Predictably, Francis flinched back, looking every part like the frightened cat Frederick had just compared him to moments ago. The breath of the other student became frantic and he looked as if he did not know if he should shout at Frederick, bury his face in his hands or simply run for it. Once they had stared at each other in shock for a more than appropriate amount of time, Frederick cleared his throat. “Phorry …”

 

Before he could say anything else, Francis jumped up. The Cuban tried his best to grab the other students’ hand, but failed. That devil really moved way too fast. So he exclaimed a rather pathetic sounding “whaith!”

 

Francis stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn around. Frederick ceased the moment and grabbed his prosthetic from the table. This would not do without him being able to talk properly. Once he had haphazardly gotten the blasted thing in and thanked his many years of practice, he tried again: “Francis.” Still no movement from the other man, which Frederick counted partly a success and partly a failure.

 

“I’m sorry I reacted that way. I was just … surprised.” Frederick ran his hand through his hair, carefully approaching the other, taller man. Almost like closing in on a frightened animal, the Cuban thought. No matter what others – like Hannibal Lecter – thought about his psychological abilities, he himself had to pride himself on the fact that he managed to ignore his own confused dizziness and racing heart in favor of calming the film student down. Still, the same had not ventured down the stairs; that was a good thing.

 

Frederick swallowed, “Francis, would you please turn around …” The other young man moved slightly, but did not follow the Cuban’s plea. “So that I can kiss you again. Properly.”

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Francis finally turned – albeit slowly. Frederick grinned and thanked the prosthetic that he had control over his facial featured back. Still looking frightened and highly insecure, the film student stood there and looking so forlornly in his own room that Frederick almost felt sorry for him. He held out his hand in an, he hoped, reassuring manner and took another careful step towards the other man.

 

Finally Francis moved and Frederick was able to lay his hand on the other student’s lower arm. After they had looked at each other for quite some time, Frederick witnessing that Francis’ almost frantically didn’t allow his eyes to settle anywhere. The psychology student kept on smiling, getting up on his toes, “Damn, you are tall!” He chuckled quietly before this time it was him kissing the other student. Noticing how insecurely Francis responded, Frederick concluded that the other man did not have the broadest range of experience. Still, once Frederick licked Francis’ lips after a few rather chaste kisses and the film student opened them hesitantly, Frederick was able to lick playfully into the mouth attached to his. What followed was an almost desperate moan that startled the Cuban. Never, in a million years had he thought quiet and brooding Francis Dolarhyde to be capable of such sounds.

 

Frederick grinned. He could work with that.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared for a little angst in this one, guys ...

 

Once Frederick opened his eyes he was overcome by a small panic attack.

 

This was not his bed.

This was not his room.

Where on earth was he?

And why did he not wear his prosthetic?!

 

Ironically, it was that last thought that reminded him of the last night. A quick look around confirmed that he was indeed lying in the bed/mattress in Francis’ room in the attic although the film student was nowhere to be seen. Relief washing over him, Frederick let out the breath he had been holding and flopped back into the crisp white sheets.

 

Bit by bit, everything came back to him:

After that first kiss, it had seemed that Francis’ instinct was taking over. He had gotten bolder, licked into Frederick’s mouth, hoisted him up and manhandled him over to the sofa they had been sitting on previously. Quite taken by surprise yet again, Frederick had decided that he would leave the enigma that was Francis Dolarhyde be and simply enjoy the increasingly better kisses.

And increasingly better they were becoming – as the throbbing erection in Frederick’s pants testified rather convincingly. Once the film student had draped himself over Frederick like a blanket – and damn, that man was not only tall but also broad – the Cuban had felt that thankfully, he had had the same effect on Francis. So he had acted on autopilot as well and simply ground his hips up – at which Francis had stopped abruptly. Afraid that he had been taking things too far to quickly at first, Frederick was relieved once Francis most forcefully pushed his own pants-clad groin against Fredericks’. Once a strong hand had started to hold his hips in place, the psychology student’s eyes had rolled back in his head. So he had a thing for someone being a little rougher in bed. Sue him. After a few forceful thrusts, Francis had stilled and then a strangled cry escaped his throat while he shook with his climax. It was almost as if the film student had wanted to hold the sound back. Afterwards, he had slopped down on Frederick, who had moved his own hips a few more times before he moaned with his own orgasm.

 

Frederick did not recall much after that. Did they talk? Quite possibly not. And Frederick was glad about that. He never was his wittiest in a post-orgasmic haze anyway.

 

Grimacing when sitting up and feeling his sticky underpants, Frederick almost laughed out loudly at the black boxer briefs that lay resting on the bedside table. Considerate.

 

 

Once Frederick had dressed himself, he ventured down the imposing staircase in search of the man of the house, so to speak. Said man could be found in the kitchen, where he prepared breakfast. Frederick smiled and wished Francis a good morning.

 

The film student spun around but quickly regained his composure. “Good morning” he growled. Frederick grinned and leaned onto the kitchen counter. “Can I help?”

 

The film student shook his head, “No. I am … almost done.”

 

The Cuban grinned and ventured into the dining room, which still was slightly awkward to him. A dining room! It seemed like something out of another century. More so as fresh bread stood in the middle of a bright linen table cloth (Francis must have gone out and got it first thing), their places were set with white china and a candle was burning in the middle of the table. There was a can that surely contained coffee, butter and jams. It all was so sweetly domestic that the psychology student was afraid his teeth would rot. But in a god way.

 

Frederick decided to pour some coffee into both of their mugs, just as Francis came in with their plates filled with bacon and eggs and set one plate down in Frederick’s spot at the table. The Cuban grinned and stood up straighter to be able to properly look at Francis, who had a shy smile on his face. “Thank you.”

 

The film student pointed his head towards the coffee, “I could have done that.”

 

Frederick chuckled, “But so could I. … Did you really go out and get bread at the break of dawn?”

 

Francis looked down on the table, “It wasn’t dawn …”

 

Frederick laughed happily – and surprised himself by doing so. He found that he really was happy. For God knew in how long. “Thank you”, he said again and laid his hand on Francis arm again. The head of the other student snapped up and Frederick decided to take the opportunity and place a kiss on Francis’ lips.

 

Frederick would have anticipated anything: Francis kissing him back fiercely and starting to rut against him again – in the middle of all the expensive porcelain – or telling him that it had been a one night stand, blushing in the morning-after awkwardness or not responding at all. What he did not anticipate though was Francis practically throwing him across the room, looking at him in sheer horror. Frederick opened his mouth, wanting to ask what the matter was and even briefly considering that he had dreamed that whole thing last night, when the film student started to shout at him to get the hell out of his house.

 

Trying his best to calm the other young man at first, Frederick gave up when china was thrown his way. He ran to the door, grabbed his coat and hurried out into the snow-covered street, blindly venturing towards where he suspected the subway to be.

 

Once he had turned at least three corners, he allowed himself to stop and catch his breath. What on earth had that been about?! Yes, he had lived through men not wanting to admit their past-night activity in the light of day but never had anybody reacted that badly. Throwing china! Frederick shook his head sadly. It had all been too good to be true anyway.

 

As he aimlessly walked around in the snow-covered streets and almost slipped twice, he contemplated calling Reba. But then again, it was Christmas and she was with her family. The last thing she needed was him whining about her best friend on the cellphone. Suddenly, a bus stop came into view and after checking quickly, Frederick exhaled with relief as he saw that there was a stop close to his flat. Perfect! He would wait here, get on the bus and then barricade himself in his flat, switch off his phone (once he had called his Mami) and firmly deny that there was a world beyond that.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

That plan had – surprisingly – worked out well enough.

For about four days Frederick had not left his flat, wallowed in self-pity and stuffed his face with crumpled Christmas cookies that his mother had sent alongside not-really-watching the cheesy comedies running on TV.

Then, he had realized that he couldn’t put off reality any longer and had opened his e-mail account. The intention had been that he would get some work for university done, but once he saw that he had about a million (46) messages from Reba, his criminal psychology paper had been forgotten. The messages started rather nice and tentative at first. Something along the lines of “Please return my calls Frederick, I would really like to talk to you.” Then, they had gotten considerably more aggressive up to when his dear friend demanded that he should “get his head out of his ass” and “fucking call her” or otherwise she would be really worried. So worried that she would get Francis to come over and look if he was alright. “Don’t roll your eyes Frederick, you know I could!” The Cuban sighed. Time to plug in his phone again.

 

The dreaded action revealed to be more dreadful than he had anticipated. It was insane what had happened in four days without switching his mobile on. Over 50 missed calls from Reba, ten from Alana, even one from Will (Frederick’s eyes bulged out at that one), two from his mother (Oh dear!) and even one from Francis himself. And he wasn’t even taking a look at Whatsapp yet. Frederick sighed and squared his shoulders. He would brew himself a pot of coffee and then tend to the chaos at hand. Starting with calling his mother. Ripping the band aid off and such. Because only God knew what fit she would throw due to the fact that he hadn’t called her back in two days.

 

In the end, the phone call with his mother had been alright. She had just been worried about her son being alone at Christmas. Frederick was sure she didn’t believe him at all when he said that he was fine – he had never been a very good liar – but as he assured her that no, he was not starving and no, he did not neglect his assignments at university she seemed content. At least up to then.

 

Then Frederick sent a text to Alana and Will respectively that assured both that he was still alive (at which he received a thumbs up from Alana and nothing from Will). Then he called Reba – shakingly so. He thought that that woman was equally terrifying as his mother.

 

The phone rang once. Frederick bit his lip.

Twice. He started to sweat.

Three times. His heart started racing.

 

On the fourth ring, it was picked up: “FREDERICK!”

 

The addressed one flinched and detached the mobile device from his ear: “Jesus Christ Reba! You should know how reliant human beings are on their hearing abilities.”

 

Predictably, his aim at humor was not picked up: “Don’t you dare and use that light-hearted tone with me, Frederick Chilton! Do you know how worried I have been?”

 

The psychology student was drawn between rolling his eyes and sporting a happy grin. Somebody actually cared about him. That was nice. “Oh please! What did you think I would do? Jump off a random building? Not even I am that dramatic.”

 

He heard Reba exhale, “Thankfully not. I was still worried. Why _on earth_ didn’t you pick up your phone?!”

 

“I was too busy increasing my weight and educate myself about Christmas-themed rom-coms.” Frederick grimaced. That sounded even stupid to his own ears.

 

Reba, however, chuckled. “You should have picked up your phone though. We could have exchanged opinions.”

 

Frederick grinned, despite himself, “About what? Weight or rom-coms?”

 

“The interconnectivity of both in the specific context of Christmas.”

 

Frederick laughed: “It’s really good to talk to you.”

 

“Pfft! I would have liked to do this sooner, you know …” Frederick could picture the eye-roll.

 

“Yeah, I know. I am a terrible person.”

 

“No, you are not”, Reba replied gently, a completely different tone to her voice. “I can really understand why you … vanished like that. But still, we were worried.”

 

“Who’s we?” Frederick wanted to know. Did she use her doubtlessly present detective skills and had contacted Alana or Will? Frederick could total picture her doing that … with the utmost determination.

 

“Dee and I.”

 

And if that wasn’t a surprise! Frederick huffed out a sarcastic laugh, “Yeah? Well, he should have thought about that before he threw his grandmothers precious china at me.”

 

He witnessed Reba exhale in desperation, “Yeah, not his proudest moment. Definitely not.”

 

Frederick shook his head, only realizing a moment too late that Reba could not possibly have gotten that. “So I would say. I mean, I have had bad mornings-after, believe me, but never has a plate been thrown in my direction. Not something to put in my memoirs, I am telling you.”

 

“Listen Frederick …” Reba started and the Cuban just knew what was about to come. So he interjected: “Reba, I know that you and Francis are friends. Better friends than you and me. And I respect that. I really do. But what he did … I don’t even have words.”

 

Reba sighed, “I know. I know. … And so does he. Trust me on that one, Frederick. He is really sorry about what he did …”

 

“He better be …” Frederick muttered.

 

“Would you …” Reba started, “Would you allow him to apologize to you? And explain what he did?”

 

Now Frederick couldn’t do anything about the fact that he exploded: “Explain what he DID?! He threw a plate at me Reba, that’s what he did. No explanation needed!”

 

“Frederick …” the girl on the other and of the line tried to calm him but he would have none of it.

 

“NO! He could have hit me right in the face with it. I have had my share of domestic violence, thank you very much. I do not need any more of that crap. Most of all if it’s paired with homophobic issues. If he cannot come to terms with the fact that he fancies guys as well, alright. Fine. Have fun living in denial. But I have gone through enough troubles to get to be who I am today. Which would include to give the guy I have spent the night with a Good Morning-kiss. Most of all because _he had started it all_ in the first place.”

 

Reba sighed, “I understand you, I really do. And you are right, about everything. But … It’s not as easy as that.”

 

Frederick snorted, “Of course. Why would I every choose something that was _as easy as that_?! But you know what, I have enough on my back as it is already … I cannot talk a grown man through his coming-out.”

 

“It’s not only you who had a shitty childhood.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Frederick knew he sounded like an arrogant brat, but damn, he had every right to do so. At least in his opinion.

 

“It’s not my place to tell you that”, Reba answered ruefully.

 

Frederick sighed, “You know what Reba? Call me once you’re back, okay? I would love to see you again but only you. I hope that I have made that clear. It was very nice of you to be worried about me, but rest assured, I’ll cope. So enjoy the few days you have left with your parents and we’ll talk once you’re back. Take care.”

 

“Frederick …”

 

The psychology student ended the call.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I hope some of you are still here. 
> 
> I am so terribly sorry for the enormous delay - but real life kicked in full force. Now, I am back to writing; thankfully. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the next chap :)

 

The bell over the door chimed and Frederick knew he should look up. But the last two persons who had entered were looking for cheesy romance literature and he just could not deal with another one of those costumers. He inwardly shuddered. He mumbled a haphazard greeting and promised himself he would ask if he could help whoever had entered the book shop once he was done reading the current paragraph of the case file that lay open behind the counter.

 

“Hello Frederick.”

 

The Cuban dropped his highlighter.

He knew that deep and gravelly voice far too well. Slowly, he let his gaze trail up the tall frame of one Francis Dolarhyde who stood right in the middle of “his” deserted bookshop on December 31st. Maybe once that had been a fantasy scenario of him. Pre-plate-throwing. Not anymore.

 

“How on earth did you find me?!” Frederick exclaimed in shock.

 

The tall film student looked almost sheepish at him. “You s-said once that you worked in a bookshop close to your flat. I … searched the area.”

 

A cold chill ran down Frederick’s spine. If that guy attacked him now nobody would even hear his screams. Still, he tried not to let his fear show, “Right. So, what do you want?” As nothing in terms of a reply came, Frederick offered him a sarcastic, “A book maybe?!”

 

“If you h-have one on the best ways of apologizing, I w-would take th-that.”

 

Almost funny, Frederick thought. Almost.

“Trust me, no suggestion could help you out of the hole you have dug for yourself.”

 

Francis sighed. It sounded like the deep exhale of a fire breathing dragon. “I know. But you have to believe me if I tell you tha-t I am so, so very sorry, Frederick.”

 

He really looked sorry, the psychology student thought. The metaphor of the small, frightened kitten came to his mind again. Still, he stood his ground, “As you should be. So, you have apologized. Great. Thank you. You can go now and tell Reba that you did as she had ordered you to do.”

 

Francis shook his head, “She hadn’t said anything …” The film student visibly gulped. Frederick noted that once again, he was only wearing his leather jacket. Without a scarf. It was December, for crying out loud. “Would you …” Francis started again in that deep voice of his, “Would you let me explain? Please?”

 

Frederick’s bottom lip started to tremble – a fact for which he hated himself right in that moment. “There is nothing to explain. You threw a plate at me once I had tried to kiss you. You screamed the house down. I …” a tear slipped down his uninjured cheek, “Damn it!” He wiped it away furiously, “I feared for my life, Francis. I …” he bit his lip, “For a moment, I was five years again and my father came home drunk. Screaming and punching wildly around him. I cannot deal with things like that.”

 

“I …” Francis started and took a quick step towards the counter, but Frederick flinched back immediately. “NO! Do not come any closer.”

 

To his credit, Francis stopped immediately. “I know that I have … frightened you and you have ev-ery right to hate me, I just …” He looked down onto his boots, “I want to explain where that came from. This wasn’t me, not really.”

 

Frederick chuckled sarcastically. Oh yes, he was familiar with excuses like that. That wasn’t him, he would not do anything like this ever again, if he only got one more chance. “Of course not. How stupid of me. Well then, enlighten me: What has brought this on?”

 

Francis looked around him in apparent panic. “Could we … could we not talk here?”

 

The Cuban looked bewildered at him, “If you are under the impression that I would take you anywhere less public after the plate-throwing you are seriously mistaken. Right here or not at all.”

 

Francis sighed but then, eventually, took a step closer. Frederick flinched back again, but managed to hold his own trauma in check. Somewhat.

 

“Alright”, the film student sighed. “I … understand.” Frederick witnessed the tall man standing opposite him swallow and run a hand over his face. The psychology student was getting more curious by the second what would come as an explanation.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Francis started to talk: “I told you about … my grandmot-mother.” As nothing further came, Frederick simply nodded, “… and her … beliefs. Well. … When I …” Francis looked onto his shoes, “When she … found me with the neighbors’ daughter …” as Francis gulped Frederick wondered again, more desperately, where this was going, “… with our clothes off … s-he ordered me to the bathroom and sc-crubbed my skin until I bled.” Frederick flinched.

 

Francis looked up quickly, but after about a second, his gaze was plastered to the floor again. “I was s-six.”

 

The Cuban shook his head. He studied psychology, he knew that Francis' behavior was perfectly normal. But then again, if old Mrs. Dolarhyde had been as antiquated as Francis described her, the action probably wasn’t surprising.

 

“When I …” Francis started again and shook Frederick out of his thoughts, “When I was seventeen we had a very hot summer. The grass … was all brown. In the garden.” Frederick nodded, dumbfounded. “So she hired a … gardener. To re-plant the grass and install sp-spr-sprinklers.” Francis sighed and said nothing for a long time.

 

Frederick waited, already terrified of what was about to come. He had no good feeling about this. Most of all because the stuttering increased significantly.

 

“One day … he … uhm worked. In the garden with … with-out his, uh, his shirt.” Francis eyes were firmly pinned to the ground, “I wat-ched him from the … the big window on the first floor. And I …” the film student swallowed and Frederick realized that he blushed furiously. To be completely honest, he almost certainly knew what was coming then. Still, he decided to let Francis explain at his own pace. “I got … aroused.” If Francis would have looked his way, he even would have offered him a small smile. Knowing the feeling and the like. But Francis didn’t.

 

“My grandmother she … she s-saw it and …” the tall man bit his lip and slightly shook his head, “s-he s-said I sh-should get into my room and … undress … and lie down on my bed. S-he would get in in a moment and …” another swallow and lengthy pause, “… and … cut it off.”

 

It took Frederick a few moments to comprehend what Francis had just told him. Once he realized what the other student meant, he exclaimed flabbergasted, “Cut off your penis?!” Frederick was suddenly happy that there were no other customers in the shop. Holy shit, that woman had been bat-shit crazy.

 

“Yes”, Francis answered simply, at which Frederick shot back a “What the hell?!”

 

The tall man opposite him blinked up at him, “I … I lay th-there for t-he entire day. Waiting. S-he never came. But I didn’t move. I didn’t dare to …”

 

Frederick shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the things that had happened to the film student. What that woman had done had been psychological warfare of the highest order. The tall man in front of him did not dare stand up to his grandmother? At age seventeen? She certainly knew what she had been doing. The damage she had inflicted on her grandson was methodological and highly effective.

 

Both young men were silent for a long time. It was Frederick who moved slowly from behind the counter and carefully laid a hand on Francis’ wrist, assuring that the other student, whose eyes were still plastered to the floor, saw it coming. As Francis looked shyly up at him, it was the Cuban who gulped, “I am very sorry you had to … endure that. She had no right …” Words failed him so he simply looked at Francis, curling the tip of his mouth up, “Thank you for telling me.”

 

Francis smiled tentatively, although his eyes still shone with tears of terror. Clearly, he hadn’t worked through the entire fiasco and, if Frederick was honest, that required some serious therapy. Jesus Christ, he daren’t even think about it …

 

“Can I … Can I ask you something?” the psychology student inquired and received a short nod in response. “I understand now that … _why_ my kiss has freaked you out. And I want to apologize …”

 

“No …” Francis started with a broken voice but Frederick shook his head. “I want to apologize. Seriously. I understand what … being with another man must trigger within you. Well, begin to understand at least. But! Why were you okay with what we did up in your room? You didn’t seem to mind then …”

 

The film student grinned, “You noticed?”

 

Frederick chuckled, “Yeah. … It was kinda hard not to.” Frederick cringed, “Pun not intended.”

 

Francis chuckled quietly and nodded. After a while, he explained, “S-he never came up there. I … I always felt s-safe. Still do up in my room …”

 

The smaller man nodded, “So it’s only in your room that you feel safe enough to … show how you feel? Or do you only feel uncomfortable in the house, minus your room?”

 

“It’s only the house”, Francis explained, “Minus the room.”

 

The tentative smile on the film students’ lips caused Frederick to grin as well. “Say I would kiss you in my flat – that would be okay.” Francis nodded. “If I would kiss you in the queer bar around the corner – that would be okay as well.”

 

“Yes.” Francis confirmed and Frederick grinned.

 

“And if I would kiss you right here – would that make you feel uncomfortable?” Frederick inquired and Francis grinned. “No.”

 

“Well then …” Frederick said, got up on his tiptoes and kissed Francis square on the lips, albeit not in the most passionate way he could imagine. He didn’t want to spook the other student and if he was quite honest with himself, he was still a bit shocked by the revelations of the night himself.

 

He was relieved when he felt Francis respond to the kiss and delighted as he felt the other man’s tongue trace along his lower lip. That, however, was as far as they let this kiss go.

 

When Frederick put his entire feet to the ground again, he sighed. “That was good.” Francis nodded, “Yes.”

 

“Thank you”, Frederick smiled and Francis grinned back sheepishly, a little red dusting his cheeks. “For the kiss and also for telling me. And I am sorry I reacted the way I have. I should have listened to you”, Frederick clarified.

 

Francis squeezed the psychology student’s hand, “I apologize for behaving the way I have. I should have said something … I didn’t think about … your past.”

 

Frederick squeezed the large hand in his back, “Couple of sorry asses we are …”

 

 “Yes”, Francis confirmed while he snuck a hand around Frederick’s middle. “How long is your shift today?”

 

Frederick looked at the clock on the wall, “It ended seven minutes ago. Why?”

 

The sheepishly shy look was back on the film student’s face, “Maybe you could show me that bar you were talking about …”

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Frederick woke the next morning with an arm around his middle that pulled him firmly towards the warm body to his right. He smiled into the pillow and snuggled into the blankets a little more deeply.

 

After they had spent about an hour and a half in the bar, it had gotten rather crowded – predictably, since it was New Year’s Eve. So Frederick and Francis had left, decided to get a horribly overpriced bottle of sparkling wine and had ventured into the Cuban’s small flat. He had opened the door and waved towards the insides: “Not quite what you are used to, I’m afraid”, he had said with an insecure chuckle but Francis had squeezed his hand, “It’s perfect.” Considering what the psychology student had learned about the house and … well, everything, it probably really was perfect.

 

Once Frederick had called his Mami and talked to a bunch of relatives, wishing all of them a Happy New Year in advance, Francis was under firm instructions to be quiet. Otherwise his mother would request a Skype-date. Afterwards the two students had settled onto the sofa in the living area. Sipping the sparkling wine out of completely inappropriate glasses, they were rather quiet for a long time, given the odd comment about nothing in particular here and there. Still, it did not seem awkward to Frederick.  Rather, it seemed that they enjoyed sitting together and finally having some big issues out of the way.

 

As the fireworks started and illuminated the room, Frederick smiled up at the student sitting next to him, “Happy New Year.”

 

“Happy New Year, Frederick”, Francis replied and both had met in a loving kiss – not too forward, but not too chaste either. Perfect, given the events at hand, as Frederick thought. They stayed like that until the fireworks had died down a little. Chatting a little, kissing a little, finishing off the sparkling wine with Francis’ arm around the Cuban’s shoulders and Frederick’s hand resting casually on Francis’ belly. “Let’s go to bed”, Frederick said once it was rather clear that his guest did not want to leave and Francis had only nodded. Once they lay in bed together, it was quite clear to both of them that nothing further would happen. So they had shared a few good-night kisses and settled for sleeping. As Frederick had almost fallen asleep, he had heard a quiet, almost inaudible “Thank you”. His heart had constricted so badly that he wasn’t even able to reply anything.

 

 

After having dozed off for a little longer, Frederick yawned and straightened his back a little. A “Good morning” was whispered into his ear and he grinned. Turning around, he met his over-night guest in a chaste kiss (morning breath be damned) and smiled up happily at Francis. “Happy New Year indeed” he murmured and caused a shy smile on the film student’s face.

 

Frederick had to say that he looked adorable: Hair too short to be sleep-mussed, his cheeks red – probably from a mixture of the heat under the blankets and blushing – he had a print from the seam of the pillow on his right cheek and his blue eyes were not quite awake yet. The psychology student couldn’t do anything about it; he just had to lean in and place another kiss on Francis’ lips.

 

One kiss grew into a few more and before both could decide anything rationally, Francis’ quite impressive erection brushed past Frederick’s thigh. The Cuban detached himself from Francis’ lips and raised an eyebrow. The taller man only blushed but didn’t do anything himself. So Frederick took a deep breath.

 

“Okay”, he said, probably more to encourage himself than Francis, “Lie back.” Having a slight look of panic in his eyes, the film student did as he was told, but warily so. Frederick placed a hand on his cheek whilst – for once – hovering over the other man: “I promise you I won’t go too far. Alright?” Francis nodded hesitantly. “And if you do not feel comfortable with anything I do, then you tell me. _Immediately_. Is that clear?”

 

After another nod, Frederick placed a loving kiss on Francis’ lips again. “I won’t be mad or anything, just tell me, okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Frederick grinned, “Good.” And then he started with is “mission”, which consisted of first trailing kisses down Francis’ neck down to his thankfully exposed chest. Marveling about how toned it was, he animatedly licked over an already taut nipple, which caused a sharp intake of breath above him. The Cuban look up, “Too much?”

 

Francis shook his head, “N-No”, he started in a rough voice, “It’s …” he gulped, “It’s good.” Frederick grinned and licked over the same nipple again and again, then moved over to the other one and even dared to suck a little. Judging from way the film student thrust his hips up towards the blanket, he guessed that he was fine.

 

Venturing further down after a little while, his hands always trailing along and caressing Francis’ sides, Frederick licked the film student’s pecks and, after listening to the surprisingly arousing sound of Francis’ deep breaths, tried a small bite. More like a grazing of teeth than anything else, but the taller man let out that strangled cry again that the Cuban had encountered the night up in Francis’ room. So he looked up. “Francis?”

 

Hazy eyes slowly focused on his face, “Yes?”

 

The psychology student smiled in an – he hoped – encouraging way, “It’s okay to make sounds, you know. In fact”, and now he blushed a little himself, “… I’d like to hear you.” Receiving a very confused look he elaborated, “It lets me know if I’m doing something right down here.”

 

“You’re doing …” the young man lying on his said breathily, “… everything right.”

 

Frederick smirked, “Good to know. Still: You don’t have to mute your sounds, not on my account, alright?”

 

After another nod, Frederick trailed his kisses further down still and had to grin against one beautifully sculptured peck around the area Francis’ navel as a quiet moan echoed from his bedroom walls. He certainly was aware that this would need time; Francis’ realizing that sex was not something foul that had to be hidden – thank his grandmother for that – and even enjoying it. Again, Frederick thought that therapy would be a good thing, but while he tried hard to imagine Francis Dolarhyde talking to a psychologist, he simply couldn’t. Maybe he’d ask Will … sometime.

 

Now, he’d rather concentrate on the man in front of him – more specifically how to treat his erection that was bulging in black boxer briefs without scaring the living hell out of the film student. He scooted a little further down, nipped at the skin above the black waistband, ran his hands over the other man’s hips. Slowly, he tried to adjust Francis to the fact that he would get him off – one way or the other. Frederick wasn’t quite sure himself yet.

 

As no protests came, he let one hand ghost over the impressive bulge in front of him. Immediately, Francis moaned. “Is this okay?” Frederick asked and only received a frantic nod. Apparently, the other man was already close. So Frederick decided against his initial plan to finally get him to come outside his underwear – like that night in his room – and take it really slowly. God knew that a traumatic encounter like the one Francis had experienced could use a little slow. So after he had let his hand wander a few times over Francis’ hard on, he licked his lips and placed an open mouthed kiss right at the base of the erection. Francis cried out loudly again at the sensation. Even though it still sounded a bit pained, Frederick was sure that he enjoyed what he was doing and finally dared to let sounds bubbling up in his throat out. It was more than good progress, really.

 

Kissing and licking through the black fabric, Frederick could smell Francis in a more intimate way than ever. And that had some effect on himself as well. He noticed how he had started to rut against the sheets, his own erection too still clad in boxer shorts. As Francis deep breaths became erratic, the Cuban knew that he was close. All it took was for him to suck a little harder through the fabric and moan at the taste that was spreading in his mouth to have Francis’ erection twitch violently and the young man cry out as his orgasm hit him. Frederick kept his mouth attached to the film student’s groin, already fantasizing about having him in his mouth _for real_.

 

Once Francis’ ragged breathing had calmed down a little, Frederick moved upwards again and took a moment to marvel at the debauched look on the other man’s face. Mouth still slightly parted, his eyes half-closed and sweat building on his forehead, Frederick simply had to grin and kiss him. As a lazy tongue found its way into his mouth, Frederick put his own hand down his boxers and finished himself off. It did not need more than a few hard tugs after all. Once his own climax washed over him, he rested his forehead against Francis’ shoulder and sighed with each spurt of hot cum into his boxers.

 

Once he had regained some of his wits again, he was aware of the hand stroking his back. Looking up, he saw Francis looking at him lovingly, “I could have done that”, he said simply.

 

Frederick grinned, highly aware of the fact that they were progressing: “Next time”, he promised and Francis nodded contently, “Next time.”

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

In retrospect, Frederick was aware that he should have thought about the solution himself.

One day after lecture with Jack Crawford, Frederick had run after Will and had asked if he could think of any way to tackle his, or rather Francis’ “problems”. These problems being that the student in question was not the most avid talker on his better days, the happenings in his past (Frederick was as vague there is he could be, mind him) and the fact that he certainly would not take well to being asked to look out for psychological help in the first place.

 

Will had at first ventured into the depths of his own mind – wherever that was – and suddenly had offered a most useful, “Well, have you tried the psychological services of the university?”

 

No, he certainly had not. He had not even thought about them – much to his own shame. Because even if he himself didn’t have time to volunteer, Alana certainly did. So he had found the technical solution for Francis’ predicament. The practical side, however, was something else entirely.

 

As both men sat together on the sofa up in Francis’ room in the attic one January evening, and Frederick carefully broached the subject, the film student didn’t take it well. But then again, Frederick had expected that much.

 

“Therapy?!” Francis asked incredulous and cast a glance at the Cuban that he was sure he had never received since the day he said he didn’t bring an USB-stick for the restored video file.

 

Frederick sighed, “And here I was thinking that you wouldn’t react well to my suggestion.” The stare, if possible, only intensified. The psychology student rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, what is so flabbergasting about my suggestion?”

 

“You mean besides me being the chatterbox I usually am?” Francis asked mockingly.

 

Frederick, by then, was more than able to counter him, though: “And yet you did not stumble over the tricky TH in therapy just a few moments before.”

 

“What do I need a know-it-all poking around in my brain for?”

 

“It’s nice to know what high opinion you have of my future profession”, Frederick shot back without real malice in it. He knew how Francis had meant it.

 

“I didn’t …” Francis sighed and Frederick took pity on him – in turn with taking his hand that rested over his shoulders. “Listen. I am not saying that it is going to work like magic. Neither can I assure you that the person you speak to can imagine what exactly it was like to live though … whatever you have had to live through. Which is why explaining this might help.”

 

“I can talk to you …” Francis grumbled and really, Frederick heart should not pick up speed due to a childish come-back like that. It, however, did.

 

He smiled up at the other student, “For which I am grateful. That you feel like you can talk to me about these things. Which you can, I want you to know that. But still I am too close to you to give you significant and helpful advice.” Again, Francis sighed, “I am also not going to order you to do anything. I mean, I really can’t. But I would ask you to try it. Go there … twice. If you think it does not help you, then you can walk out the door and never go back. Agreed?”

 

Francis hummed, but after a short thoughtful silence he whispered “Agreed.”

 

 

 

Frederick had naively counted this as a success. So when Francis had told the Cuban about his first appointment, Frederick had made sure to be at the film students’ house afterwards. With Reba as back up. Even though he had been nervous, he told himself that it wouldn’t be so bad. Which profound questions could they tackle anyway during their first session? The therapist, whoever they might be, would try to get a grasp of Francis personal background at first and then progress from there.

 

When the film student arrived after his appointment however, Frederick sincerely asked himself how on earth he could have every thought that this would be a good idea. The tall man stood right in the middle of the living area and shouted the house down. This time, however, it thankfully was not directed at Frederick (or Reba) but on the poor soul that had to put up an entire hour with Francis’ mood. Frederick could picture the tall man, curling himself up on wherever he had been sitting, only grunting from time to time. Not his favorite patient either, as he had to admit.

 

_How dared that incapable imbecile to ask about his stamina? Outrageous! And what did he know about growing up with certain antiquated morals? Nothing! Repressed homosexuality – the idiot! He would never go there again, just so the two knew._

 

Even though Frederick knew one could never trust only one account of a conversation – much less in a therapy setting – repressed homosexuality did seem rather harsh for a first appointment. Most of all because he himself – quite aware that he might be biased – would not come to that conclusion. Francis certainly didn’t repress anything, it was just the looming shadow of his grandmother that creeped him out, in layman’s terms. And to be honest, no one in their right mind could blame him.

Frederick seriously started to question if the suggestion of going there really had been a good idea on his part, when Reba cut in: “Okay, now shut up Dee!”

 

Both, Francis’ and his own pair of eyes shot towards the woman sitting on Frederick’s left: “Yes, some therapists are assholes, I get it”, she started exasperated. Francis wanted to say something, but Reba with her sixth sense did not let him, “No matter what you say, I do. Can you imagine how often I have heard the phrase: _But can’t you see?_ ” Frederick snorted but patted Reba’s arm in an apologetic manner. The young woman continued, “To which I answered each and every time: No, I really can’t.”

 

Francis took a deep breath and seemed to visibly relax. That was good. Still, Reba continued, “Point being: Just because one therapist is an idiot, not all of them are. You should request another one.”

 

After looking down at his feet for a few moments, the film student looked up at Frederick, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you …”

 

The Cuban, visibly startled by the apology, smiled: “Nor did I think you did.” After a small grin from Francis, Frederick continued, “And Reba is right – you _should_ request another one. That diagnosis after the first appointment is atrocious. And wrong, if I may say so myself. You are not repressing your attraction towards men, Francis, it simply needs negotiating.”

 

“Hear, hear”, Reba said and Francis slumped down on the sofa next to Frederick, exhausted. “Can’t you talk to me?”

 

At the sound of his … boyfriend? … of a petulant child, Frederick chuckled. “I can and I will talk to you. If you want me to. But not as a therapist. It wouldn’t be ethical.”

 

Francis sighed, “But I don’t want to go back there.”

 

Reba bit her lip, deep in thought. Frederick wrinkled his nose and Francis stared with an intensity at the plate containing fruit on the table that the psychology student feared that it might explode. Suddenly, Frederick had an idea. It wasn’t either the wisest or most ethical one, but probably a way out of this. “I could call Alana.”

 

Reba grinned knowingly while Francis looked confused at him: “Who’s Alana?”

 

“A friend of mine”, Frederick elaborated, “You’ve seen her one time, when her and me had seen you and Reba in a café. It was rather early in our … acquaintance, so you probably don’t remember her. Reba has met her at the Winter’s Dance.”

 

“And she is very nice”, the young woman sitting beside him supplied.

 

Francis grumbled a little, “Dark hair? Red lipstick?”

 

“Yup, that’s her.” Frederick was impressed with Francis’ memory. However, maybe studying film did that to you. “She’s volunteering at the university’s psychological student’s services and I’m sure she could arrange talking to you. Maybe there’ll be a supervisor, but …” Frederick halted for a moment, shuddering with horror at the thought that this could be Hannibal Lecter, but dismissed the thought immediately. The brilliant doctor Lecter surely had better things to do than supervise psychology students at university. Maybe if Will Graham would volunteer – which he didn’t.

 

“Hmmm …” Francis murmured.

 

“It would be worth a try Dee …” Reba encouraged and Frederick nodded.

 

After a very long period of dead silence, Francis nodded, “Okay. Call her.”

 

“Really?!” Frederick beamed up at him. To be quite honest, he hadn’t thought that “his” chances were very high.

 

“Yeah … _One_ more try,” Francis underlined and Frederick nodded. He was so happy that he would be giving this another chance, he would have agreed to anything. “Sure. I’ll call her tomorrow, alright?”

 

 “Well, that’s good. Really good Dee! Although …” Reba started to chuckle, “… I don’t think much therapy will be necessary anymore anyway.”

 

Frederick raised his eyebrows – which Reba could not see but certainly feel – and Francis hummed questioningly as well. Reba only laughed more loudly at the confusion of both men, “Oh come on! Do I have to remind you about your recent rant Dee? Right here, in the living room? With phrases like stamina and the big-bad h-word? Most of it is done, if you ask me.”

 

Francis chuckled quietly and nodded, while Frederick had not considered it. He really had been a bundle of emotion only moments ago – right in the living room on the ground floor. He smiled over at the film student to his right and poked him playfully in the ribs. Francis fleetingly brushed his hand over the Cuban’s leg which gave the Cuban hope – to say the least. Even though he did not dare to touch him openly yet, it certainly was a start.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

And what a start it had been:

Predictably, Alana had been aboard – although only after Frederick had to use his persuasion skills on her. His friend did have doubts about the whole thing in the very first place, because Frederick had talked about Francis. Even though not extensively so, Alana did fear that she might not be able to treat him objectively. Frederick, however, had talked Francis into it, so he did not intend to stop now. And it worked, Alana agreed and after she had her first talk with Francis, both had clicked. Thankfully. Francis had told the Cuban that Alana had been “more pleasant” to talk to than the last therapist – which wasn’t that hard a goal to achieve, really – and Alana had said: “I think it worked. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter Frederick.”

 

As the semester progressed and even neared its end and Frederick had not heard any complaints about Francis’ therapy again, he considered that it had been a success. Once the stressful time of exams and papers-to-be-handed-in was over, they considered that it was time to celebrate. Well, it had been Reba and Alana (with whom Francis had concluded his sessions by that time) who had started a Whatsapp group and planed the whole thing. The whole thing being that the two girls assured that everybody spared some time one particular evening where they went out.

 

They – Alana, Reba, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller (Frederick still met him with a raised eyebrow and a wrinkled forehead), Francis and himself – met at Margot’s apartment in the city. Alana’s girlfriend had apparently bought it to get away from her crazy brother and as Frederick and Francis entered the place, the Cuban had to do a double take: The whole thing was huge, state-of-the-art and still classy as could be. Apparently, the modelling payed off. “You should consider selling your looks for money”, Frederick whispered jokingly into his boyfriend’s ear, which was only met with a raised eyebrow (really, Francis was picking up his bad habits) and a pointed index finger to his upper lip. Frederick only shrugged, “I don’t see a problem. _Different_ is in nowadays”. The film student only shook his head and held his glass out to Alana for a refill.

 

Once they had gotten at least tipsy to a reasonable degree – Frederick relied on a considerably soberer boyfriend to get him to their next destination safely – they went out to a huge club. Way to fancy for them on normal days (Margot had suggested it) they didn’t even blink an eye to the horrendous entrance fee and enjoyed the flashing lights and rhythmical beats they were greeted with upon their arrival. While Francis and Beverly stayed at the bar, the rest of them ventured immediately to the dance floor. Once they had arranged themselves into some kind of circle, at least as best as possible, Frederick noticed the variety of dancing arrangements around them and concluded, that Alana had found the best venue for them. Not being sure about the nature of the relationship between Zeller and Beverly himself, or why Reba had invited them, for that matter, he was sure that “open-minded” was a good label for them. Also, he had to give Zeller some credit: On the one hand, he had turned out to be funny, even though in a deeply sarcastic way that did not take other peoples’ feelings into account. On the other hand, he did fill out that tight t-shirt rather nicely. Frederick concluded that he could drop the eyebrow – for now.

 

As they had danced for quite some time, at least concluding by the way Frederick’s own, not quite as tightly-fitting shirt clung to his sweaty body, he decided that he needed to get something to drink. Only for dehydration prophylaxis of course. Se he searched the bar and found Beverly sitting there, but no sign of Francis. Still, he wandered over to the girl he knew from their criminal psychology class – who always complained that she had to take that one as well and not only medical ones – and inquired about his boyfriend. After ordering some water – and a shot of tequila. Sue him.

 

“He just went to the bathroom”, Beverly screamed into his ear and waved towards the back of the dancefloor. Frederick nodded, and sat down on the still miraculously empty bar stool. Maybe Francis’ brooding presence lingered over it. Who knew?

 

“He’s nice”, Beverly screamed again and Frederick nodded. “Yeah, he is.” He grinned. “I’m surprised he talked to you that much …” the Cuban continued. At the girl’s raised eyebrow, he felt the need to roll his eyes, “I meant: He doesn’t usually talk to _new_ people that much.”

 

Beverly smirked and beckoned Frederick over, “My brother has a clasped lip as well.”

 

Well, that explained a lot. Frederick nodded and offered Beverly his tequila shot in toast that Beverly met with her beer. Just as the psychology student had drowned his, an arm snuck around his middle. Fully prepared to fend off any unwelcome advances, he relaxed immediately when he saw Francis’ looking over his shoulder and pecking his cheek. “Tequila?” he asked and somehow, the tall man didn’t even need to shout like he and Beverly had to.

 

Frederick grinned, “I need to keep hydrated …”

 

The film student smirked, “Very responsible.”

 

Turning around on his stool, Frederick smirked, “I am always very responsible.”

 

With lips curled into a smirk, Francis nodded and kissed Frederick thoroughly. Grinning up at his boyfriend, the Cuban pointed an index finger at the broad chest in front of him: “You should be dancing. With me. Like – now.”

 

Francis sighed. Not that Frederick could hear it, but he knew by then how a sighing Francis Dolarhyde looked. Just like the tall guy standing in front of him right now. “I’m not a good dancer …”

 

“Bullshit”, Frederick countered. The film student raised an eyebrow. “And even if that’s the case, I don’t care. Plus: You look so great in your shirt that no one will give your dancing moves a second thought. So: Dance with me.”

 

“M-hm”, Francis hummed sarcastically, but let himself be dragged by Frederick to the dancefloor. An outstretched hand towards Beverly was only met with a determined shake of head and Frederick didn’t want to argue. In a certain kind of way, the girl was more intimidating than his boyfriend. Well, different intimidating. Whatever.

 

Frederick was content with dragging Francis to the dancefloor and once they had found a somewhat empty spot – read: where they fit in together – the Cuban started to move his hips rhythmically. Francis only rolled his eyes and stepped more than moved from one foot onto the other. Once the psychology student decided that his boyfriend could use a little guidance and he reached his hands out towards Francis’ hips, the taller man rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he emphasized, “I told you I can’t dance like you …” into Frederick’s ear.

 

Wrinkling his forehead, Frederick leaned in as well, “What does that even mean?”

 

If the Cuban saw correctly, Francis blushed. Then again, it could have been the heat or the red flashing light above them. The film student mumbled something. “What?!” Frederick screamed.

 

“I said …” Francis spoke up and got close to the psychology students’ ear, “… sexy.”

 

Frederick smirked, and not only because of the high praise of his dancing moves. Getting closer, he plastered himself against Francis’ front while he got onto tiptoes, “Oh, I beg to differ …” he half-shouted into his boyfriends’ ear and started to guide their movements together. After the first few minutes, Francis let himself go a little more and both managed to start a rhythm of their own. Smiling up at the film student, Frederick shouted a “See?” and let his hands wander to Francis’ back. The Cuban was pleased to notice the other man’s hands wandering around his back and arms as well. He even started to smirk against the other student’s neck when he felt Francis running his fingers through the base of his hairline. Pulling back a little, both young men shared a heated kiss that earned him a whistle from the guy dancing next to them. Even when Francis looked a little taken aback at the guy, Frederick couldn’t help himself: He gave the other man a sassy wink.

 

At some point, Alana made her way over to them and, after humoring her fellow psychology student and let Frederick twirl her around a few times, told them that Margo and her would be leaving. Casting a quick look at the bar and noticing that Beverly wasn’t there anymore, which was followed by a glance at his watch, Frederick realized that it was close to four in the morning. Nodding at his friend and hugging her goodbye, they only waved at Margot, who still stood with Reba, Zeller and Beverly a few feet away from them on the dancefloor. The other woman simply grinned at him. As usual, Frederick was perplexed at how effectively she could communicate without saying a single word. Probably also a side effect of her modelling.

 

Alana kissed Frederick on the cheek and laid a hand on Francis’ shoulder before she ventured towards her girlfriend. The Cuban took Francis’ hand and pulled the taller man down a little, “You wanna go as well?” The film student shrugged but Frederick realized that he was quite tired himself. So they also made their way over to ask if they should bring Reba home. Dancing between Beverly and Zeller, she assured them that she would be fine and they should go on home. Pulling a slightly concerned looking Francis from the dance floor, Frederick – with a look back on a laughing Reba – told his boyfriend: “Look at her, she’ll be fine.”

 

As they passed quite a few couples swept outside by the moisty heat or their arousal, Frederick chuckled as they almost stumbled over two guys rutting against each other against the wall once they turned a corner. “Apologies. Do carry on”, Frederick offered and pulled Francis with him while he chuckled under his breath. Francis grumbled.

 

“What?” Frederick wanted to know.

 

“I … I never understood that.” Francis admitted and the Cuban nodded.

 

“I cannot say that I have never been involved in such … illicit activities but: There certainly are more comfortable ways of taking care of that.” Frederick winced as he thought back on the deep scratch on his back that resulted from a guy with quite the proclivity for nipples who pushed him against a brick wall. It had hurt like hell.

 

Francis nodded. “Yes, I thought so too. When I had been to the bathrooms …”

 

“Oh dear! Yes, well … Sometimes there’s some quite heavy stuff going on there as well”, Frederick admitted. After Francis countered with a “Yes, I was made aware” Frederick elaborated, “That, however, never was something for me. Getting it on while you heard someone pissing his bladder out … not my favorite kink.”

 

“And the smell.” Francis stated matter-of-factly.

 

Frederick shuddered. “I’m so glad we’re together.”

 

Francis chuckled quietly and laid his arm around the smaller man’s shoulder, pulling him close. “However, I thought we should try it.”

 

Even though Francis’ voice sent pleasant shivers down his spine, he raised his eyebrows, “Try what?”

 

The film student took a deep breath: “The uhm … The sex.”

 

Frederick momentarily stopped on the empty sidewalk. Even though they had progressed from their initially clothed hand- and even blowjobs quite successfully, sex – meaning actual sexual intercourse – had never been a question until now. Frederick realized that Francis was still too uncomfortable with the idea and he himself was fine with it. Even though it certainly was nice and, if he was lucky enough to find a partner who cared about his pleasure as well as his own, really good, his time with Francis certainly made up for it. And he wasn’t even talking about the other day when the film student had pressed their hard dicks together and jerked them off masterfully. All of their time made up for it. As Frederick never had a boyfriend, a real boyfriend, before, he was enjoying their nights sitting together watching some old movie as much as the jerking off. Which had been great, by the way.

 

“Really?” Frederick asked with a questioning frown on his face as he looked up his boyfriend. Francis nodded. “But we don’t have to”, the Cuban started, “you know, if you’re not ready yet. I’m fine … _more_ than fine the way it is.”

 

They’d commenced walking again as Francis sighed a little. “I know. And I don’t say that I’ll be … comfortable with the whole thing the first time. But …”

 

Frederick waited a little but as nothing further came, he asked, “But?”

 

There it was again, the blush. “I … I thought that I’d like to … make you feel like that. Like … some of the men I … heard.”

 

And seriously, Francis talking about other men moaning in the dingy bathroom of a club shouldn’t melt his insides, but God help him, it did. He exhaled heavily to get rid of the lump in his throat and took the hand resting around his shoulder. “But you do, Francis. Really. I … I am so happy with the way you make me feel. Not only during sex but all the time.”

 

“Really?” came the barely audible reply which had Frederick squeeze the hand resting in his harder. “Yes. Really. I … I’m not missing out on anything, quite the opposite. I am happier than ever right now. Of course, we can try having sex and see if you are comfortable. But if you are not, we don’t have to do anything more than what we are doing now. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to do something you’re not really into. … And, just for the record: Most of these bathroom-guys are showoffs. Like: Look at the amazing sex I’m having while really they are barely getting off. Due to the smell or whatever else.”

 

“Okay. Still.”

 

Frederick laughed. Sometimes Francis’ vocabulary was still reduced to the bare necessities but what he said did have significance. “Okay. We will.”

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

Needless to say, when the two students had returned from the club that particular night to Frederick’s flat that had been closer, they had been way too exhausted to try anything in the sex department. They rather fell into bed, Frederick still with his shirt on that earned him a wrinkled nose from his boyfriend (that he pretended not to see) and were sound asleep within a minute.

 

The next few days both of them were rather busy, Frederick arranging his shifts at the bookstore in a way that he was able to go to New York to visit his Mami and Francis had an interview for an internship at a film production firm. The film student fretted over it enormously, even though Frederick told him that it was ridiculous. He had read the advertisement and there was nobody better fitted for the job than Francis. Still, the other young man worried and Frederick refrained from telling him that he himself did not even know where to apply for an internship at some psychological institution.

 

One morning when Francis had stayed over at Frederick’s flat as they had watched some old Miss Marple movies on TV the night before, Frederick awoke with Francis plastered to his back. This was not an unusual occurrence per se, the hard-on he could feel on the back of his thigh, however was. While he slowly blinked himself awake, Frederick thought about the many times he had asked himself how his boyfriend kept his body in such firm control that something like morning wood had never happened. At first, he asked himself if it had been him, if Francis, after all, was not all _that_ interested in him. But when things got a little steamier between them, the film student was _up_ even before him, so he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

 

Grinning to himself, Frederick started to shift his butt a bit lower – an action that caused a deep moan from behind him. Just as he had expected. Frederick chuckled and turned around, facing a flushed Francis looking intently at him. “Good Morning”, the psychology student smirked while Francis only rolled his eyes, but smiled while doing so. After they had shared a few heaty kisses – morning breath be damned, Frederick thought – Francis hoisted himself over the Cuban and started rutting against the other man’s leg. Sighing contently, Frederick let his hands roam over the broad and bare back of the other man. Sticky apartments were good for something after all.

 

In between open mouthed and clumsy kisses, Francis looked intently at Frederick, his large hands framing the Cuban’s face. “I think … I think we should try it. Now.”

 

Frederick needed quite a few moments to search his lust-filled brain for something that would make sense in that particular context. “Sex?” he squeaked rather embarrassingly after a few quiet moments. Francis nodded and Frederick kissed him thoroughly in anticipation, before his brain caught up with him yet again. “You sure?” Francis nodded.

 

“You don’t have to …”

 

The right corner of the lips hovering above him curled up, “But I want to.”

 

And who the hell was he to refuse something like that? Once again, he pulled himself up by Francis’ shoulders – damn that man and his strength – and kissed him lovingly. “Well then …” Frederick said and pushed Francis back carefully so he could get into his bedside drawer where lube and condoms were already waiting. Even though Frederick had been completely honest when he said that he did not expect his boyfriend to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with and that he was perfectly fine with how things were between them, it never hurt to be prepared. As the situation at hand prove most thoroughly.

 

Francis, who had sat back on his heels, boxer briefs still on, bit his lip as Frederick got the lube out. “Would you … uh …” The Cuban only raised his eyebrows, “Is it okay if I … watch? When you prepare yourself?” Frederick smiled. They had had _the talk_ before so Francis was well aware what was about to follow. And at a quite thorough degree, Frederick reminded himself. His boyfriend was huge after all. He nodded, “Of course that’s okay.”

 

Francis flushed, “It’s not … not that I don’t want to do it, just … I don’t want to do it wrong.”

 

Frederick’s smile stayed on his lips as he leaned over and kissed the film student. “As I said, it’s perfectly fine. You watch this time and n- if there’s a next time, you can try. If you want.” Francis nodded and watched intently as Frederick kicked off his boxer shorts and kneeled in front of the film student, back to Francis. “Is that okay?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. He witnessed a nod. “I thought you’d see more but I can also …”

 

“No”, Francis said firmly, “That’s … that’s fine.”

 

Grinning to himself, Frederick turned around, coated his two of his fingers with lube and started to work. At first, he let his fingers run over his pucker gently, only teasing it. He might as well put on a little bit of a show. But, to be completely honest, he was a bit nervous himself. And not only because it was the first time he was about to have sex with somebody new, somebody he cared about. More than once he had asked himself what sex with Francis would be like. He prided himself in having reduced Francis’ anxiety as well as his insecurity to a, at least to him, reasonable degree. Of course, the few therapy sessions he had attended helped as well in the process. Still, he knew about how different various people reacted to sexual intercourse. Some were exhilarated by the intensity, others reacted less positive. Additionally, Frederick knew almost too well about Francis’ strength by then and what could happen when he lost control. However, he decided that he would not dwell on that now – most of all because he was almost certain that he was able to detect his boyfriend’s actions pretty well by then. For example right now, when Frederick inserted the first finger into his anus he heard Francis gasp almost too quietly to hear. The Cuban knew that Francis was already rock hard in his boxer briefs. He knew that his eyes were glued to his ass – though he tried not to think about too much or he would get way too nervous to continue – and he would only register the bare minimum of his surroundings. And he was most likely biting his lower lip. Equally likely, he would follow Frederick’s every guidance to what was about to happen next.

 

So after the psychology student had, after a little while, inserted a second and then, after using some more lube, a third finger with an aroused groan, he was sure that Francis was at least as hard as he was. A thesis that was confirmed once he turned around. The other young man hadn’t moved a single inch, black briefs tenting rather impressively in his groin. Frederick eyed the bulge appreciatively before his gaze wandered up to Francis’ flushed face: “So …”

 

“So?” the film student asked with a lust-clouded voice.

 

Frederick grinned, crawled over to his boyfriend and kissed him. “Are we gonna do something about that?” His hand ran over the erect penis and Francis sighed while he closed his eyes. A quite breathless “Yes” followed soon after.

 

Frederick grinned and pecked the other man on the lips again. “You sure?”

 

“Yes.” The Cuban nodded and tossed the condom at Francis with an “Okay then.”

 

While Francis opened the packet with shaky fingers – which the psychology student found absolutely endearing – he once again got the lube. As the other man had put the condom on, Frederick slicked his hard-on up while he kissed the other man hungrily. Despite their mutual nervousness, Frederick was anxious to start. He had witnessed Francis in numerous other sexual situations hence he was curious about how his boyfriend would act in this particular one. More even, Frederick was more than ready to find out if the rather impressive cock held what it promised at first sight. So once they broke their kiss, Frederick looked intently at Francis: “You still want to do this?”

 

Francis nodded and Frederick smiled. “Okay. Good. Me too.” He winked, “Though I think at first it might be better if I got on my knees and you took me from behind. It’s … easier somehow. That okay with you or would you like to do this differently?”

 

“Hmm…” Francis hummed, “I’d … I’d like to see your face.” After he said that, the film student blushed, bless him. He had just witnessed Frederick fingering himself, they both had raging hard-ons and still that man had the nerve to blush when he said that he wanted to see his boyfriends’ face during sex. The Cuban ran a hand through Francis’ short hair and grinned. “We can do that …”

 

Although his own heart rate picked up a little with nervous anticipation, he positioned himself over Francis’ groin. Once he took hold of the thick shaft, Frederick chided himself for not being even more thorough during preparation. This wasn’t the easiest setup after all. Still, he was determined to try. God knew what Francis was going through at the moment.

 

“Right, I want to ask you to not move at first, okay?” Francis nodded, “Just until I’m … adjusted.” Frederick cringed a little with how awkward that sounded. However, Francis nodded again, smiling a little. “And: If you’re not comfortable with anything, you tell me instantly. Alright?”

 

“Yes”, the film student said. Frederick leaned in and kissed the trembling man in front of him while stroking up and down his shaft a few times. Then, he guided Francis’ own hand to his erect penis while he parted his cheeks with one hand, holding on for support to Francis’ shoulder with the other. Slowly, he let himself down on the other student’s groin. Feeling the head of Francis’ cock at his entrance, he gasped slightly and found it immensely funny that the film student did exactly the same. The first few inches were not a problem and Francis’ erection slid in effortlessly, but soon Frederick groaned with the stretch. He held on tighter to Francis’ shoulder, taking a deep breath, “Just … a moment …” Thankfully, the other young man, true to his word, did not thrust forward even though the Cuban could feel the twitch of the erection.

 

Once he had carefully moved his hips up and down a few times, he was able to open up a little more so Francis’ length slid in further. Both men groaned out simultaneously and after Francis had caught himself again, he ran a reassuring hand over Frederick’s thigh. “You okay?” he asked, quite out of breath himself. Frederick nodded, head surely red and sweaty. “Yeah. You?” As the Cuban peaked an eye open, he saw the other student grin slightly, “Fine.”

 

“I just need a little more … ti-ah! Oh God yes …” Frederick exclaimed once the film student had taken to move one of his own hands up and down Frederick’s surprisingly still fully erect penis. Even though the effect wasn’t immediate, he slowly was able to fit Francis’ cock fully inside him. Both exhaled; Frederick with exhaustion, Francis doubtlessly with restraint. After the Cuban had met the other man in a bruising kiss, he smiled: “Now, you can move if you want.”

 

After Frederick had pulled off a little and braced himself on his knees as well as against Francis’ shoulders, the other student placed one careful thrust, groaning. Two more followed. “Good?” Frederick asked. The film student only moaned, which the Cuban took as a good sign. He leant a little to the left so that Francis’ thrusts were directed at his prostate. Thankfully, the film student got the message without Frederick telling him anything; he firmly delivered a few more forceful thrusts right where Frederick wanted them to be. He started moaning – and rather obscenely at that – as strong hands moved to his back and held him in place. Needless to say, that contributed to Frederick’s arousal. Once he had managed to adjust to the girth, he started moving along with Francis’ thrusts. Opening his eyes, he saw a very stern look on his boyfriends’ face and he ground out an, “Every-thing okay?”

 

“Yes” was all he got as an answer. Well, that and an intake in thrusts that had him cry out with each and every time his prostate was attacked. Wondering briefly if his moans were too much for Francis, he abandoned that thought quite quickly once the film student started making the throaty little sounds Frederick knew announced his climax. Being quite proud of himself that he even noticed them in the state he currently was in, he pulled the brain cells he had left together: “Yeah, that’s it … Come … OH! Oh God! … Come for me!”

 

Francis’ eyes flew open and he moaned low in his throat before Frederick felt the jerks of the erection buried deep inside him. Moving along during Francis orgasm, Frederick jerked himself off and soon came all over his hand and stomach. Afterwards, he collapsed against Francis’ chest that was heaving and coated with sweat.

 

“Did you …” Frederick cleared his throat once he realized how shrill his voice was, “How was it?”

 

“Good”, Francis breathed, running his hands over Frederick’s back, “It was good.”

 

They met in a sloppy kiss, all tongues and saliva as neither of them was coherent enough to coordinate their movements. “Was I too loud?” Frederick asked once he had caught his breath.

 

“No I … I liked it”, Francis confessed and Frederick felt the cock still buried inside him twitch.

 

“Oh hello! Stamina much?” the Cuban asked jokingly. Francis blushed and kissed Frederick’s neck. “You’re sexy and I’m only human.”

 

Frederick grinned, “Not with that cock, you aren’t.”

 

They both started to chuckle and ultimately, Frederick moved up, holding the used condom in place before Francis pulled it off, tied it and tossed it on the floor. Frederick simply slumped back on the bed, he didn’t have much energy left for anything else. The warm and damp cloth that cleaned his belly a few moments later only made him melt into the sheets.

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

_~ ~ ~ 15 Years Later ~ ~ ~_

 

 

“Alright Christopher, I’ll see you next week.”

 

The teenager who got up from the sofa and was about to grab his backpack, turned around, “But next week we’ll be on our field trip to Washington …”

 

Frederick mentally slapped his forehead. “Of course! Your fieldtrip!” It wasn’t as if they hadn’t talked about it. At length. “I’m sorry but I completely forgot about that.” Christopher, apparently not at all bothered, grinned at him: “It isn’t as if I’m the only person you talk to.”

 

Frederick just had to mirror that smile. “Your word in God’s ear! Still, I should have thought about it. Are you looking forward to it?”

 

The blonde head whipped up and down in an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yeah. It’s gonna be great. I can’t wait for it.”

 

“Good, that’s great. … You know of course that if anything happens – not saying that it will – you can always call, right?”

 

Christopher’s toothy smile was directed at him. “Sure, thanks Doc.” Frederick rolled his eyes fondly. Even though he had told Christopher, and some of his other patients really, not to call him _Doc_ , it was useless. “But Leo will keep an eye on me. The old mother hen that he is …”

 

The Cuban smiled. Oh yes, he had heard about “mother hen Leo”. And without wanting to be too presumptuous, he thought that Christopher liked the fact that whoever Leo was did not let him out of his sight – for two reasons: One being that despite his joking and sunny-boy- exterior, he was a highly insecure teenager. Biological father dead in an accident when he was only two months, the mother never quite recovered from the loss. She hid herself behind her job and eventually re-married. Christopher’s step-father abused him physically and emotionally. The first one being rather easy as the boy had lost a leg when he was seven and got the limb stuck between two rocks he had been climbing on.

The emotional abuse had mainly consisted of telling the boy that he was responsible for his father’s death, as Christopher’s father had been out getting a new formula as the baby had had a small allergic reaction to the one they were using as well as continuously telling him that he was worthless, a cripple and a fag. Even though Christopher’s stepfather surely had been pointing fingers in the dark, the last part might not be completely off the hook, so to speak. If one lost the insult in the whole thing, of course. Frederick had heard more and more about that Leo every week and he was curious to see where that went. Personally, he was glad that somebody was looking out for Christopher on that field trip, as apparently some students in his year were not that different from his step-father. Leo, being from the South, as he knew by then, did not hesitate to throw quite colorful and methaphor-ladden insults their way. He quite liked that thought himself.

 

“Glad to hear that”, Frederick said and got up from his seat himself. “So in two weeks’ time then?”

 

Christopher, completely ignoring the outstretched hand (like every week), met Frederick in a hug. “Sure Doc, see ya …”

 

As Frederick stood in the door of his “office” and watched Christopher walk towards the door, the same opened and revealed Francis, who had just returned for the day. “Christopher, hello”, he greeted the already familiar patient. “Everything good?”

 

“Yeah”, the teenager piped up, “everything’s great.”

 

“All set for the trip next week?” Frederick rolled his eyes. Of course Francis had not forgotten about that – like himself. Maybe his dear partner should hold his appointments …

 

Christopher nodded, “Ready to go. The new prosthetic is much better than the last one. So I’m positive I can climb all the stairs to Abe Lincoln.”

 

Francis smiled, “Good to hear. Do take photos, I want to see them.”

 

Christopher saluted “Will do. Have a good evening you two …”

 

“Bye Christopher”, Frederick hollered and Francis patted the student on the back before he let him out the door. Then, his partner casually walked over to him and stopped right in front of the Cuban, who leaned against the door frame. “You forgot the trip, didn’t you?”

 

Again, Frederick rolled his eyes, “He’s not my only patient. Quote Christopher. … And good evening, how was your day to you too.”

 

Francis grinned down at him, “Hey.” They met in their usual Welcome-home-kiss that still spread warmth throughout Frederick’s whole body. This told him that they had made right decisions all along the way.

 

“Is Reba still here?” Francis asked, also a matter of habit, at least on Fridays.

 

The Cuban threw his right hand over his heart in mock-offense: “You forgot the trip, didn’t you?!” he exclaimed in shock, crinkling his polo shirt with the force of his grip. In fact, Reba had left early today. Her group at three had been the last for the day and after she had moderated the discussion on their previous week, Brian and Beverly had collected her and driven to the airport. Some relative of Brian – Frederick could never keep track and marveled at how Reba did it – married so they decided to spend a few days up there. Group therapy wasn’t due until the week after anyway, so Reba had no problems of getting some days off.

 

It really was Reba and Frederick who “ran” the house. A house for children and teenagers with disabilities of various kinds, in fact. While Reba – and a few chosen other ones on occasion – was responsible for adjusting them to “the world out there” Frederick was mainly in charge of individual therapy sessions and some group therapies on occasion. Sadly enough, they had more inquiries than they could deal with. It broke Frederick’s heart that there were so many youngsters out there who, like him and Francis really, were in desperate need of people who listened to them and their problems. It already helped a great deal to talk, after ten years of their work Frederick could say that with certainty.

 

Soon after he had graduated from university, he and Reba had started talking about people they knew who, like the three of them, suffered from being misunderstood, not being able to talk about how they really felt and meet people with the same (well, not always the _exact_ same) challenges in their daily routines. “We should do something, Frederick”, Reba had announced over a bottle of wine and he had agreed. Drunkenly. Francis, equally drunk, had joked, “Why don’t you take the house? It’s certainly big enough and we don’t use half of the space anyway.” Reba had thought it to be a splendid idea – Frederick too, even though he held back his enthusiasm. “You sure? I mean, it’ll be quite a change …”

Francis had shrugged, “My grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew more people like me are in the house, but as this is already the case anyway, I don’t see why not. Also, I’d like to do it out of spite …” Reba and he himself had laughed and Frederick had taken his boyfriends’ hand. He really had come a long way since the plate-throwing incident and the Cuban was so proud of him.

Reba huffed, “Oh please! That woman is rotating in her hole in the ground as it is! Us delinquents being here and all.” She had looked over where Beverly and Brian, her two partners, sat and blew them a kiss. Beverly had smiled while Brian had pointed a finger at Frederick, “And Fred moaning the house down when he and Francis have sex.” Frederick, now on way better terms with Zeller, had raised an eyebrow. “None of your business, I’d say …” Beverly had nodded while Brian had piped up, “Excuse you, I live in the same country!”

Frederick had shaken his head, “Go back to Canada if you have a problem.”

Brian Zeller had smirked, “I’d still be able to hear you.”

Yes, they enjoyed their little banter.

 

The idea, even though started as an alcohol-induced rambling, had stuck. Not a year and a half afterwards, they had started to renovate the house. This meant, getting all the dark and gloomy stuff out and open up the space. They had painted the walls in light colors, they had moved Francis (and Frederick) from the attic to the second floor, the first floor being planned as an open space, a room for group therapy sessions as well as three “emergency rooms” as they’d called them. This meant rooms for children in dire need of a temporary safe place. It had been a good investment – Christopher being one child who had lived with them for almost a year. The second floor now was “theirs”, containing their bedroom, a smaller living room and Francis’ studio. This studio contained more technology than Frederick was able to comprehend but as Francis worked as a restaurateur for audiovisual materials, the money was well invested there as well. On the ground floor there was the kitchen, the dining room a living room and Frederick’s practice. Another, smaller one had been furnished on the first floor which was a room Will and Alana shared – if Frederick was in need of help with his load of patients (always!), he called one of them and they helped out gladly. All things considered, they had made themselves a fine home – and, as Francis always emphasized, put the huge house to good use. Frederick agreed.

Also, they had moved all the china, the table cloths and linen napkins, the lace-decorations, curtains and dishcloths into the attic. Where they belonged – sitting up there together with Francis’ smashed mirror.

 

 

Standing right in the foyer on their ground floor today, Frederick marveled at how they had gotten right there. With Francis raising an eyebrow at his theatrics: “You sure you don’t want to become an actor? It’s never too late …”

 

“Pft! You only wanna film me …” Frederick said and walked past his partner into the kitchen, when there was a knock on their door. Frowning, Frederick turned to his partner, who only shrugged but went to open the door with an: “As if I’d need you to be an actor for that …”

 

Their doorstep revealed a slightly flustered looking Will Graham. “Hello Will”, Francis grinned at the man and let him in. “Hello Francis … I’m sorry I’m barging in like that it’s just …” Will wrung his hands which could only mean one thing:

 

“Hannibal …” Frederick completed Will’s sentence and went to greet his friend in the foyer. After a brief and awkward hug, the Cuban raised an eyebrow at his colleague: “What has he done now?”

 

Will shook his curls in exasperation: “I don’t even know where to start …” he said and ventured towards their living room. Frederick looked back at his partner, who stood there with a slight grin on his face: “And you say I’m a drama queen!” Frederick said accusingly, that was countered with a “Hey!” from the living room.

 

“What in the name of everything holy is going on between them? Can you explain that to me?” Francis asked but Frederick only raised his hands in mock-surrender: “Damned if I know.” The truth was, this … _thing_ between Will and their former professor had been going on since their days at university without any of them knowing what exactly went on there – meaning: if the two were together or not.

 

“Dinner for three?” Francis asked and Frederick smiled up at him before kissing him soundly on the lips. “You know that I love you, don’t you?”

 

“I certainly do”, Francis grinned and pointed towards the kitchen. Frederick nodded, smiling and set for the living room. Thankfully, Will didn’t bring his dogs this time – like twice in the past – so it couldn’t be so serious that he was about to move out of his house and somewhere else (he had never done that anyway). Strangely enough, he always came to Frederick when things blew up in his face, never to Alana. That woman had the fortune that she only had to deal with the minor stuff. If things went haywire, Will would stand on their doorstep which was something Frederick would never have anticipated during their days at university.

 

Frederick entered the living room with an “Alright, so what has the Lithuanian done this time?” and braced himself for at least an hour of madness.

 

 


End file.
